


A Broken Circle

by aCosmicJoke



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abuse, Falling In Love, High School, Homecoming, M/M, Romance, Self-Harm, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:13:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aCosmicJoke/pseuds/aCosmicJoke
Summary: AU where Rick and Daryl are seniors in high school both dealing with their own very different problems. Meanwhile, the homecoming dance is two weeks away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let me start out by saying that if you are reading this, you're amazing. Ahhh! I'm so nervous to be posting this. This is my very first fanfiction ever and I'm writing it for fun, so please be gentle. That being said, any comments and critique are of course greatly appreciated.  
> (As I'm fairly sure Lori's maiden name has never been mentioned, I made up the last name "Carter" for her)

“So, Grimes, you thought of how you’re gonna ask Lori to the dance yet?” 

“Huh?” Rick blinked, snapped back to the present at Shane’s words. He had been zoning out, which in retrospect probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do while sitting behind the wheel of a vehicle. Realizing he had begun speeding up without thinking about it, he gently eased off of the gas pedal.

“I said--”

“I heard ya,” Rick grumbled, though he wished he hadn’t. 

The closer it got to the dance, the more stressed out he grew. Lori Carter was, according to the entire male student body, the total package. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous with a slender frame, bright hazel eyes, and wavy dark hair, but she was also head cheerleader. Rick could still scarcely believe he had landed her. The two had started dating four months ago when his good friend Glenn Rhee, who was a junior, introduced them. Glenn, who was probably the only Korean in their whole school, was the kind of guy who just sort of knew everyone, regardless of what grade they were in, always looking to make new friends and have a good time. 

It was their senior year of high school, and Rick knew Lori was expecting him to ask her to the dance in some sort of elaborate way despite the fact that it was only homecoming. He had never been great with mushy romantic spectacles, and he was sure he was going to disappoint her with whatever he came up with. However, that wasn’t what was fully bothering Rick. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, like an itch he could not scratch try as he might, but with every word Lori spewed about homecoming--what color she planned on wearing, whether or not they should go hang out alone or with friends afterward--the more and more his skin began to crawl. He knew it was hardly his poor girlfriend’s fault for being so excited for their first real event together, but he still found it increasingly harder not to get mad at her whenever she brought the dance up.

Shane, apparently not getting it, said, “So? Have you?”

“Obviously not, Shane,” Rick snapped. “Do I look prepared to you?”

“Jesus, man, you don’t have to go and bite my head off,” Shane said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 

Rick sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s not you, I’ve just been...dealin’ with some stuff.”

“‘Dealin’ with some stuff.’ What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Shane snorted.

Rick should have known Shane wouldn’t understand. Both had grown up across the street from one another in the small town of Cynthiana, Kentucky and the man was like a brother to Rick, but there were still some things Rick wouldn’t want to come to him for. Like for his ever-growing unattraction to Lori. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had been infatuated with the pretty cheerleader at first, sure, but the longer he dated her, the more his enamor for her began to fade away.

“It means...I tell Lori I love her all the time but I don’t even know if I know what that means anymore.”

“Oh, for the love ‘a--Rick, man, listen to yourself. You sound like you’re havin’ a fuckin’ midlife crisis at the age of eighteen,” Shane exclaimed. “Women will do that to you. They’ll get in your head, make you question everything. That’s why I don’t let any bird tie me down.”

Rick knew the real reason was that Shane sort of had a thing for Lori, but he also knew his friend would never do anything to intentionally hurt him by acting on it, so Rick pretended not to notice.

“You aren’t really listening to me--,” Rick tried to say, but Shane was quick to interrupt.

“Do you think she’s beautiful?”

“What?” Rick asked, confused.

“Hot, sexy, whatever the hell you want to call it. Do ya?”

“God, yes. I mean, who wouldn’t?” 

“Do you like talkin’ to her?”

“Sure. We get along, if that’s what you mean.”

“Then problem solved,” Shane declared. “Your love was one written in the stars. That’ll be fifty bucks.” He slumped back in his seat, satisfied.

Rick tightened his grip on the wheel and pretended to feel the same contentment as he focused on the task of getting himself and Shane to school. The two switched off days giving one another rides to the school, though while Shane had a nice shiny Audi Cabriolet that his parents had bought him as an early graduation present, Rick’s mom had expected him to buy his own mode of transportation. It had taken a lot of grueling long shifts waiting tables at the local diner he worked at, but eventually he had saved up enough to buy himself a used, beat-up Ford pick-up. It had a mind of its own and only started about half of the time, but despite Shane’s offers, Rick refused to drive the Cabriolet. He had worked for this truck and he loved it.

_Huh_ , Rick thought. _Funny how it’s so much easier to mean that word about a damn truck._

He pulled up in the parking lot of the high school just as the bell starting first period sounded. It was Rick’s own fault they were late; he had slept through his alarm, but he still swore under his breath as he climbed out of the car. There was no use in hurrying now. Mr. Peterson, his first period physics teacher, would literally give kids a tardy slip if they walked into the room a second too late. With one more tardy, Rick was going to have to go to detention today after school.

It was only an hour and not that big of a deal--all the students had to do was sit there and work on homework or read a book or something--but his mom would be pissed about this going onto his permanent record. She was expecting him to get into as exclusive of a college as possible because she had never gotten the chance to go, having gotten pregnant with him pretty young. He still hadn’t gotten around to telling her that he planned on skipping college and going straight into the police academy with Shane, but that would be a worry for another day.

“Hey, don’t act like that,” Shane said when Rick groaned irritably. “You’re the one who wouldn’t wake up. I was bangin’ on your door for at least fifteen minutes. What were you doing last night that had ya so tired? Thinkin’ of Lori in her short little cheerleader skirt? Maybe--”

“Shane, shut up,” Rick said, grimacing.

“All right, all right. But have ya even fucked her yet?”

“What? No. She says she wants to take things slow. Why are you even asking me these things?”

Shane shrugged. “Apparently I’m your new couples counselor. Figured I should know the details. And anyway, no wonder you’re getting cold feet about the girl!”

Rick had to smirk at that one. “Oh, because you’re such the expert on love now. What exactly was it Andrea said to you the last time you broke up? I believe somethin’ along the lines of, ‘Go fuck yourself’?”

Andrea Harrison was Shane’s on-again off-again girlfriend, currently off-again for the span of almost six months. She hadn’t so much as looked Shane’s way lately, and secretly Rick had been thinking, _Good for you._ As much as he cared for Shane, the guy was stubborn as a mull when it came to seeing the world his way, and add that to Andrea’s obvious hero complex and need to “fix” anyone she came across, and the two made a volatile couple.

“Yeah, whatever. Screw off,” Shane grumbled.

Rick laughed and was just about to lean forward and clap Shane on the shoulder when something crashed into his back, sending him stumbling several steps forward. He steadied himself on the hood of his truck, mildly annoyed only because the day had already started off less than stellar. Turning, he found that the something was a someone, dressed in worn ripped jeans and a black hoodie pulled low over his face despite the fact that it was still fairly warm out. Even with the disguise of sorts, Rick instantly knew who the guy was, his shaggy coppery brown hair sticking out from under the hood and hunched demeanor easily giving him away. Daryl Dixon.

“Sorry,” Daryl mumbled after a moment, as if just realizing that the collision had been his fault. Even now he stared at his feet, making it clear why he had run into Rick in the first place.

Shane was glaring at Daryl so hard one might have thought Shane was the one to get charged into rather than Rick. Daryl just kept standing there studying his shoes in deep concentration, as if waiting to be dismissed.

Finally Rick realized he should probably say something. “It’s, uh, all good. Don’t worry about it,” he said. 

Daryl gave a curt nod so small it was barely perceptible before speed-walking away and into the school building. Rick stared after him, a prickly feeling left in his gut. The only class he had with Daryl was their last class of the day, English, and the dude sat all the way in the back and never so much as raised his hand to ask a question, so Rick didn’t really know him. He had always seemed like an odd fellow, keen on keeping to himself and constantly watching, as if mapping out possible escape routes anywhere he went. Mostly Rick had not thought much about Daryl until now, apart from the dark rumors and, “Freaks,” he’d occasionally hear tossed out at the boy’s expense. If Daryl knew what kids said about him he didn’t seem to care, and he struck Rick as someone who could take of himself.

Though now he had only seemed defeated--and afraid. Rick bristled at the thought that he could have somehow been the cause of that fear, but no, all he had really done was stand there like an idiot before finally reassuring Daryl that there was no harm done. Surely he hadn’t done anything threatening.

“Hello? Earth to Grimes?” Shane said, waving a hand in front of Rick’s face. 

Rick shook his head, hoping to somehow shake away the poisonous thoughts filling his mind like a fog. “Did he seem okay to you?” he asked. 

“Daryl Dixon? Are you being serious? When does he ever seem okay?” Shane replied. “You know his entire family is a bunch a’ good for nothin’ hopheads, right? His older brother has been dragged into the precinct more times than anyone can count. Daryl’s probably headed down the same road.”

Shane’s father was a police officer who often recanted his daily misadventures to his son, so Rick knew Shane wasn’t pulling this information out of thin air. Not to mention the fact that Cynthiana was a small town of a little under seven thousand, and everyone had heard some infamous Merle Dixon tale at one point or the other, although Rick had always thought them to be greatly over-exaggerated. At least he hoped so.

“So,” Shane said, “are we skipping first or what?”

“Nah. One day of detention is better than getting suspended for ditching,” Rick said, heading towards the building and trying to shake the uneasy feeling still brewing in his gut.

“Man, you are a wuss,” Shane groaned, but he was quick to follow.

Once inside the school, Rick and Shane went their separate ways. As expected, Mr. Peterson was quick to write Rick up for being late, taking way too much pleasure in letting Rick know that he’d have to report to the library after school for detention. Resigned to his fate, Rick sat down at his desk and tried to ignore the questioning holes he could feel Lori, who sat a few desks behind him, burning into his back. 

The morning only got worse when Mr. Peterson passed back their tests from last Friday. Rick looked down at his paper to find a huge red D looking back up at him, his worst grade of the year so far. Usually he did fairly well in physics, but his mind had been elsewhere during the test. Elsewhere being, _Fuckin’ hell, is there a way to tell Lori I’m not sure I even want to go to homecoming?_ Rick knew it couldn’t be healthy to be devoting this much time stressing over something as mediocre as a high school dance, but maybe that was what being in love was--constantly bursting at the seams with unbelievable amounts of stress. If that was the case, Lori had to be Rick’s fucking soulmate.

As soon as the bell rang Rick was hurrying out of the classroom, but Lori quickly caught up.

“Hey,” she said, pecking him on the cheek. “Tryna run away from me?”

In all honesty, Rick hadn’t even thought about waiting up for her, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Forcing a smile he said, “Sorry, I’m just feelin’ a little out of it today.”

“I hope you aren’t comin’ down with something,” Lori said, following Rick across the hall to his locker. “What with the dance in two weeks and all.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively and then leaned back in anticipation as Rick opened his locker, like she thought a parade asking her to homecoming might somehow pour out of it.

Inwardly, Rick groaned. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said a little too forcefully.

Lori frowned. “Rick, did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you. I’m just dealin’ with some stuff, okay?” There was that genius line again. Rick winced at his own words.

“All right. I’ll talk to you at lunch, then.” Lori turned and stalked off down the hallway before Rick had time to come up with anything else to say.

“Hey, dumbass.”

Rick jumped and whirled around to find himself face to face with Glenn, who was sporting his usual baseball cap despite the school’s dress code. “Jesus, Glenn,” he said. “Are you trying to give me a damn heart attack?”

“Right, so, Lori looked absolutely thrilled,” Glenn said, ignoring Rick. “What did you say to her?”

“I think she’s just disappointed I haven’t gotten ‘round to askin’ her to homecoming yet,” Rick sighed, pulling the books he needed for his next few classes out of his locker and then shutting it.

“Dude, that thing’s in a couple of weeks,” Glenn said.

“Thanks, I had forgotten,” Rick replied dryly.

“And now she’s going to be texting me all night,” Glenn continued. “You know she comes to me about all your relationship drama.”

“Wait, she does? What does she say?”

Glenn smiled innocently. “Pretend I didn’t just tell you that. Anyway, you two are already dating. I thought you’d both just assume you were going together and leave it at that.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that just means she expects me to ask her in an even more extravagant way,” Rick said. “I guess all girls want to be asked out like that, but my heart’s just not in it.”

Glenn stared at Rick for a moment before saying, “Dude, you are seriously depressing, you know that? Here I was just going to ask Maggie to the dance with flowers, but now you’ve got me worried that I need to do something like organize a flash mob.”

“Do you think--”

“Rick. Don’t organize a flash mob,” Glenn said.

“Right, of course.” Rick smiled. “Maggie, huh?”

Glenn blushed, looking away. “I was just thinking about maybe possibly asking her. She probably already has a date, so we’ll see.”

Maggie Greene was a junior, pretty with a sweet face and a nice tan from working on her family farm. Rick had never talked to her, but he had heard from others that she was kind and went after what she wanted. Someone like that would be good for Glenn, who was a nice guy but who often let himself get stepped over.

“Good luck, man,” Rick said. “You never know if you don’t try.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Glenn mumbled. “Well, we had better get to class.”

“Yeah,” Rick agreed, starting off down the hall with Glenn. “So, about that flash mob…”

Glenn groaned. 

***

Daryl wasn’t surprised when his first period teacher handed him the tardy slip and told him he would have to have detention after school. Sometimes Mrs. Bloom would try to be nice and act like she didn’t notice him slipping into the classroom five, ten, fifteen minutes late, but Daryl had been late to her class so often lately that it was beginning to get ridiculous. 

Detention didn’t bother him. At least it would keep him out of the house for another sixty minutes after school. What bothered him was the way Mrs. Bloom regarded him with a look of absolute pity as she handed him the pink slip of paper marking him as late. If there was one thing Daryl didn’t want or need, it was pity. Who was she to act like she had any fucking idea what it was like to be Daryl Dixon? He hadn’t strolled into class late today simply because he had felt like it and she knew that, but that was where the teacher’s knowledge ended. She didn’t know what it was like to live in the place Daryl was forced to call home. 

He felt rage eating its way through his veins like a disease as he sat through Mrs. Bloom’s lesson, and he had half a mind to stand up, flip her off, and storm out of the classroom and not look back. But that sounded like something Merle would do--hell, it was something he _had_ done--and Daryl knew everyone was just waiting for him to slip up, prove to them all that he was just another waste-of-space Dixon, just like they all already thought. So instead he sat there and stewed, perpetually caught between the expectations of others and his own cold fury.

At least Mrs. Bloom didn’t ask him to pull down his hood. People had gotten used to pretending not to notice the bruises he’d bring into class, but that didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed their sideways glances.

After class Carol Peletier, who seemed to have some sort of psychic ability to detect when something was bothering Daryl more than usual, found him in the hallway and pulled him to the side. She was probably the one person Daryl trusted more than anyone in this world, but even then their relationship was a weird one. They didn’t really tell each other any details about their lives, rather, they shared an unspoken acceptance over the whole that was the other, whether they knew what the entirety of that whole entailed or not.

“Let me see,” she ordered. She pinched Daryl’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing him to raise his head so she could examine his face.

Daryl knew what she would see--a nasty shiner on his left eye that was starting to swell something awful, and a busted lip that had mostly stopped bleeding by now. They definitely weren’t the worst injuries he had endured by far, but usually his father tended to avoid his face. It wasn’t that the people around town didn’t know about the abuse, but it was easier for them to pretend it didn’t happen when it wasn’t so in their faces, and Will Dixon seemed to know this. But this morning he had been especially drunk, especially angry, looking for a fight no matter what. The blows had been unexpected but they had been over quickly, and afterward Daryl had gone to his room and picked out an old hoodie that was so full of holes it was pathetic, and then he had gone to school, arriving late.

“You won’t need stitches,” Carol muttered, dropping her hand.

“Yep,” he replied, shifting from foot to foot, eager to get away. Not even Carol could make him feel better. He had already decided to go through the day disconnected and pissed off at the world.

Carol’s annoyed look softened slightly, but she kept the hard edge to her voice. “Daryl, you can pretend you’re alone all you want but you’re not, and you’re just going to have to fucking put up with that. You know I know what you’re going through.”

Carol’s ex-boyfriend Ed used to hit her. That is, until he shoved her after school one day and Shane Walsh happened to be standing nearby to witness it. Shane had beat the living shit out of Ed, and shortly after Ed’s family had moved away. Carol had grown tough as nails since then, and Daryl often mused over the thought of what she would do to Ed now if she could get her hands on him. All of this had happened their sophomore year before Carol and Daryl had become friends, but he had heard the stories. They had gotten close the next year when they were lab partners in science and realized they had more in common than one would expect.

Daryl was certain Carol and Shane had never talked before the incident, and they hadn’t since, either. Daryl sure as hell had never exchanged words with the jock, a football player who other than teaching Ed a lesson had always struck Daryl as a massive prick. At the thought of Shane, Daryl flashed back to this morning when he had run into that Rick Grimes guy. The way Rick had stared at him, as if he were a specimen under a microscope, had been infuriating. Not to mention the way Shane had glowered at him. Daryl could already hear them telling all their friends about how they had survived a run-in with a feral Dixon and had lived to tell about it. Normally he might have said something, made a jab at the two, but he had still been too dazed from his lovely wake up call from his father.

Carol had been waiting for Daryl to say something, but when it became clear he wasn’t going to, she went on. “I know how it is, so I’m going to tell you how it is: you think you deserve it. You think think you deserve it, so you take it, and you’ll keep on taking it until you can’t take it anymore, but then you’ll get right back up and keep taking it anyway because you think you deserve it. It’s one big shit-covered circle.”

Daryl continued to regard her in silence. It wasn’t even that he thought he deserved it. Maybe he had, once, but that was a long time ago. Now he felt nothing. He was empty. And he really saw no point in trying to avoid whatever it was Will would want to inflict on him next.

“Now I know that Will is your father and maybe that makes it different for you than it was for me with Ed,” Carol continued. “I also know that this is something you need to figure out yourself, or you’ll wake up every morning feeling the aches and bruises and broken parts of you as if the injuries are still fresh, believe me. So that’s why I’m going to let you handle this. But the second it gets to a point where I think you can’t handle things yourself, I’m going to start handling them. Do you understand?”

Daryl grunted in response. Because he wasn’t really sure that he did. What did Carol expect him to do? Kill his father? Once, in middle school, he had told one of his teachers that Will had hit him. He had been passed back and forth from faculty member to faculty member until someone called in a social worker who had asked him a whole lot of questions about his home life. Will had been called in to answer some questions as well, and of course he had denied it all, and in the end it had all gone in circles until it was finally dropped. That night Daryl had gotten the worst beating of his life, and he had quickly learned to keep his mouth shut. Even if Carol testified along with him, it wasn’t like it would make a difference. She hadn’t been there, she couldn't prove anything.

The bell warning students to get to their next class rang and Daryl was thankful for the excuse to get away. “I gotta go,” he said. “Already have detention today.”

“Okay, fine,” Carol allowed. “Just think about what I said.”

Daryl nodded and walked away, but instead he thought of Rick’s face and the way he had looked at him that morning. Daryl still couldn’t figure out his expression--pity? Amusement? All he knew was that if he never had to talk to the guy again, it would be too soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl discover they have detention together, and Daryl isn't too pleased with an idea Mrs. Bloom has in store for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I feel like I took forever to write this chapter for how short it is. Hopefully it's okay and there aren't too many mistakes. I'll be honest, I'm sort of winging it with this fic, but not for lack of trying!

The rest of the day passed for Rick without incident. He managed to patch things up with Lori during lunch, using the excuse that he was just tired, which wasn’t a lie. He had tossed and turned in bed all night. Of course, he conveniently left out the part about her being the primary cause. 

After school he found Shane and told him that he would have to stay for detention. Because they gave one another rides, whenever Rick was late to school that meant Shane was too, but somehow Shane managed to talk his way out of ever getting written up.

“I have football practice anyway,” Shane said. “Afterward I’ll just catch a ride with one of the guys from the team. Knowin’ your rust bucket of a truck, it would’ve broken down on the way home anyhow. Have fun.” He saluted at Rick and disappeared down the hall in the direction of the boys’ locker room.

Rick hurried to the school library, not needing to be late to detention, too. When he arrived he went to the back of the room where detention was held at a large round table next to the very last shelf of books. It seemed like everyone was already there, the table crowded round with yawning, bored-looking kids, most of them texting. Rick slid into the first available seat. Teachers took turns volunteering to supervise detention, but when Rick looked around, whoever was running today’s was yet to show up. As he surveyed the room, his eyes landed on the boy sitting next to him. A boy who he hadn’t paid any mind to in his rush to be seated. A boy who happened to be one Daryl Dixon.

He couldn’t see Daryl’s face, of course. Daryl was still hiding out inside his hoodie, head down, but Rick would recognize that ratty old thing anywhere. It was so full of holes that it was hard to believe it was actually doing anything by way of warmth. He vaguely remembered hearing something about how broke the Dixons were and instantly felt bad for judging. He quickly looked away, but not quick enough--Daryl, perhaps having sensed Rick’s stare, was already turning to angle his body towards Rick. He still kept his hood pulled firmly over his eyes and kept his face mostly downcast, as if afraid to make eye-contact for some strange reason, but Rick could tell Daryl had noticed him staring.

Rick realized he had two options at that point: sit there for the next hour pretending he hadn’t been watching Daryl and make things even more awkward between the two of them, or to start up a conversation and hope to normalize things. Deciding that the latter was the lesser of two evils, Rick said, “Run into anyone else today?”

His head still ducked downward, Daryl grunted, “No.” There was a long pause before, “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just makin’ a joke. You seem very interested in your shoes, is all. Not that they aren’t great shoes.” He let his eyes fall down to Daryl’s feet and had to curse under his breath when he realized they were a pair of threadbare off-brand Converse that were beginning to tear out of the soles. Rick probably sounded like he was making fun of the poor guy, which of course wasn’t his intentions. 

Rick wasn’t sure why, but it was becoming kind of important to him that Daryl like him. Normally Rick didn’t care what others thought of him, but he could feel the irritation coming off of Daryl in waves. It didn’t help that so far, whenever interacting with him, Rick’s mind would draw a blank, leading him to say the stupidest things possible. 

“I swear I’m not making fun of you,” Rick said, stupidly.

Daryl looked up then, his hair falling away and his hood slipping slightly back to reveal his face. At first Rick thought what he was seeing was some sort of terrible joke, nothing more than a silly game, a prank to be laughed at over later. Daryl’s left eye was swollen almost completely shut, a painting of deep purples and blues. His bottom lip was slightly swollen as well, a large gash in it that had begun to scab over the source. Daryl looked away as quickly as he had looked up, but it was too late--Rick had seen it. And now that he had seen it, he couldn’t get Daryl’s injured face out of his mind.

He could feel something opening up inside of him, something leaving room for nothing but a feeling of utter sickness. Rick wanted to shrink away and reach over and comfort Daryl all at once. 

_You’re overreacting,_ he told himself. _He probably got into a fight with another student. It’s high school. Kids get into fights all the time._

But Rick knew the way that students who had just been in fights would carry themselves--he himself had had his fair share of brawls his freshmen year. Even if the person had lost, they’d walk around the school halls with their head held high, proudly bearing their bruises and battle scars like awards of valor. Instead Daryl was clearly trying to hide his injuries, walking around hunched and broken.

Rick thought of some of the things he'd heard said about Daryl’s family. Most of it was about Merle since he was always getting himself arrested, but it would be things like, “The apple sure doesn't fall far from the tree with that one,” or, “No wonder the man's so damaged.” All statements that left Daryl’s father at the blunt end of the blame. 

Suddenly, Rick felt freezing cold.

He was just about to say something, of what he wasn't sure, when Mrs. Bloom walked over with a small blonde girl trailing behind her, clearly a freshmen. The gathered students hurriedly hid their phones, some glancing at books they had had set out as decoys.

“Sorry I'm late everyone,” the teacher said. She glanced at the blonde girl, who was smirking. “I was takin’ care of something. Daryl, can I talk to you for a moment?” 

Daryl glanced up, once again giving Rick a view of his face. His light blue eyes were full of suspicion. 

The blonde girl started to head for a chair before Mrs. Bloom added, “You too, Beth.”

Ah, so that was where Rick had seen her before. He had thought she looked familiar, but only after hearing her name did he recognize her as Maggie Greene’s younger sister. She may have only been in ninth grade, but the school was small and only after seeing her now did Rick realize she hadn't been around for the past few weeks.

“Daryl, c’mon,” Mrs. Bloom said gently when he still didn’t move. “You aren’t in trouble. Well, not in any more trouble.”

Slowly Daryl stood and walked over to Mrs. Bloom and Beth. Beth kept on standing there, kept on smirking, looking like she wouldn’t rather be anywhere else than in the library for detention after school. 

Mrs. Bloom led the two away from the curious eyes of the other students, disappearing around a bookshelf, and leaving Rick to stare at an empty chair.

***

Daryl didn’t know what Mrs. Bloom wanted with him and he didn’t care. The way he saw it, the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he got everyone’s attention off of him. Namely, Rick, who had for some reason been trying to start a conversation with him. But the second Daryl had allowed Rick to see his face, Rick had shied away, probably disgusted. Good. Disgusted, Daryl could handle. Disgusted he understood.

He followed Mrs. Bloom around to the relative privacy of a bookshelf, along with that girl--Beth. She was a tiny thing, wearing layered clothing that hung off of her frame, but she carried herself as if ready to take on the world, fight tooth and nail all on her own. She was pretty, someone who could be popular if she wanted to be, and Daryl couldn’t imagine what Mrs. Bloom would have to tell someone like _that_ that could also apply to someone like him.

“I don’t know if you two know each other, but Daryl, this is Beth Greene, Beth, this is Daryl Dixon,” Mrs. Bloom said in a voice full of forced enthusiasm.

Daryl could already tell that whatever the teacher was about to say he was really, really not going to like.

“I know who he is,” Beth said coolly.

Daryl had been studying his shoes intently, his go-to maneuver to invoking as minimum interaction with others as possible, but at the younger girl’s smug words, he decided that no, he would not just stand here and prove a spectacle, an oddity to be marveled--or, more accurately, gawked--at. He raised his head and casually reached up, pulling down his hood. Mrs. Bloom hadn’t gotten the full show earlier in first period, and her smile slightly faltered. Beth, however, didn’t even blink.

“Daryl, I ah…” Mrs. Bloom cleared her throat. “I know you don’t like to participate much, but you are a very bright student. I checked with your other teachers, and you’re getting an A in every class.”

“Yeah, so?” Schoolwork seemed to come naturally Daryl, though sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to try. It wasn’t like he was exactly planning to go away to college after he graduated. College was where people went who saw futures for themselves, and when Daryl tried to look into his future, all he saw was gray.

_It’s all a circle,_ he could practically hear Carol saying. All he had to do was break it. Would going to college break that circle? The thought made Daryl want to throw up. At least Will’s wrath was expected, known, a constant. At least he knew he could handle it. He could. He would. He had to.

“So,” Mrs. Bloom said, “Beth isn’t doin’ too well in school right now. In fact, she’s actually pretty behind. I thought it might be nice if you’d be willing to tutor her after school once a week, help her out with some of her homework. Of course, I can’t make you, but--”

“No,” Daryl immediately cut in. There was no way in hell he was going to babysit this chick once a week just for the fun of it. He had enough problems.

“Daryl, this is something that I think would be good for the both of y’all,” Mrs. Bloom insisted. “I’m not tryin’ to go and be the bad guy here, but--”

“He said he doesn’t wanna do it,” Beth said. “Can I go now?”

“Absolutely not, Miss Greene. Don’t forget you have detention,” Mrs. Bloom said.

Beth rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I don’t see why.”

Mrs. Bloom sounded exasperated, as if trying very hard to keep her tone even and unbiased. “Today is your first day back after three weeks and you called your teacher an inappropriate word, Beth.” 

“Well _he_ was being a bitch,” Beth grumbled.

Meanwhile, Daryl’s mind was spinning as he tried to take in what his teacher had just said to him. “What do ya mean?” he demanded. 

Mrs. Bloom smiled in surprise, maybe thinking Daryl was coming around. “About what?”

“What do ya mean, tutoring Beth would be _good_ for me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Daryl, if you would just--”

“No! Tell me what you mean!” He was aware that his voice was too loud in the small library, aware that there was absolutely no chance that the others couldn’t hear every word he was shouting, but he didn’t care. 

Mrs. Bloom sighed. “I see real potential in you, Daryl, I really do, but I know the way your family, well...is. I thought that if I could just get you more involved in something, it could help you see that things can get better.”

So that was it. It all came down to what others thought they knew about him, what others thought must be best for him. Mrs. Bloom had looked into the problem as deeply as she had been willing to go, carefully avoiding the messy parts, the darkest corners, and she had come up with what to her must have seemed like the holiest of holy decisions. This was nothing more than a way for the woman to clear her conscience, to be able to go home at the end of the day and get to reassure herself that her morals were indeed still intact.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Daryl said in a low voice, eerily calm. And then, in one fluid motion, he pulled his hoodie up over his head and tossed it at Mrs. Bloom’s feet. 

He stood there for a few seconds in his black undershirt that revealed the bruises that speckled his arms like ugly decoration. Bruises shaped suspiciously like rough hands. He could still feel the weight of them, the burn, as if Will were still standing in front of him, pinning him against a wall and screaming into his face how pathetic he was, yelling about how he was nothing more than a useless waste of space. 

Daryl continued to stand there until he was sure Mrs. Bloom had taken it all in. Beth still didn’t react, but the teacher did, and she looked...sorry. Any sort of satisfaction Daryl had hoped to get from this act was instantly drained away. He darted for the library’s exit, desperate to get away, to go, to never stop moving.

***

It was dead silent when Mrs. Bloom returned to the table with Beth. No one even bothered to pretend they had not been listening in intently. Rick felt downright horrible. Realistically he knew that nothing that had just happened was his fault, but he still couldn’t shake the idea that maybe he could have done something, anything, to help. He wasn’t sure what Daryl had done, but all of a sudden he had gotten real quiet after blowing up, and now here Mrs. Bloom and Beth were, Daryl nowhere to be seen. 

“I, um…” Mrs. Bloom swallowed. She seemed confused. “Daryl won’t be re-joinin’ us today. Everyone else, I want to see homework out and phones away.”

Beth dropped down beside Rick, taking Daryl’s seat. Shamelessly, she opened up her backpack and took out her cell phone, starting up a text. She regarded Rick from heavily lashed eyes before saying simply, “I’m rebellin’,” and returning to her text message.

Rick turned back to Mrs. Bloom and noticed for the first time that she had a wad of familiar black fabric tucked beneath her arm.

“Is that Daryl’s jacket?” he asked before he could think about it.

“What?” The teacher looked down at the jacket, seemingly just noticing that she was holding it. “Oh, yes. He, uh, forgot it.”

“I can take it to him if ya want,” Rick offered, all the while thinking, _What the fuck are you doing? Why the fuck are you doing this? What the actual fuck, Rick?_ “He can’t have gotten too far by now.”

Mrs. Bloom smiled. She looked like she wanted to cry. “Are you friends with Daryl?”

Rick started to say not really but then decided that Mrs. Bloom might not give him the hoodie if he did. So instead he went with, “Yeah. We have a class together.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the teacher said, handing the jacket to Rick. “You come right back after, okay?”

Rick nodded, took the jacket, and then hurried out of the library. He was pretty sure Daryl didn’t have a car, so maybe Rick could still catch up with him. He ran the whole way until he got outside to the front of the school and sure enough there was Daryl, cutting across the parking lot with his hands in his pockets. Rick set off after him, having not the slightest idea what he would say when he caught up.

Daryl took the the choice away from Rick, whirling on him in a flurry of pure rage. He looked murderous. “What do you want?”

Rick stopped in his tracks, still a few feet away. “I...are you okay, Daryl?” He tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn like magnets to the fresh bruises along Daryl’s arms.

Daryl laughed, cold and devoid of any joy. “Not that it’s any of your fuckin’ business, but I have never been better. What, did Mrs. Bloom send you out here to check up on me? Make sure I don’t do anything too drastic?”

Would Daryl do something? But somehow Rick could only see things going worse if he asked. He held up the jacket. “Actually, she sent me out here to give you this.”

Daryl made no move to step forward. “What do you want?” he repeated.

“Do you have a cell phone or somethin’?” Rick asked. When Daryl raised his eyebrows, Rick quickly said, “Never mind, you don’t have to answer that. But we should hang out sometime. I work at this diner most days called Morgan’s. Best breakfast food in town. If you ever want to stop by--”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I’m not goin’ to your fucking diner,” Daryl interrupted.

“Well, it’s not my diner, it actually belongs to a guy named Morgan hence the name, but I think I get your point,” Rick said lightly, hoping to elicit a smile out of Daryl, anything to prove that he would be all right.

Daryl simply turned and walked away. Just like that, without another word. Rick almost went after him. Almost. But in the end there was really nothing more he could do. Defeated, he turned and walked back into the school. And then he realized he still had Daryl’s jacket. And by the looks of it, it was the dude’s only one. And what if he wanted to wear it again tomorrow? Well, Rick was just going to have to take it to him, now wasn’t he?

After that, detention felt like an eternity. All Rick could think about was getting Daryl’s jacket back to him. Sure Rick could just wait and return it tomorrow at school, but what if Daryl wanted to cover his injuries again? Daryl had it hard enough without getting ogled at all day. Though Rick had no idea how he would get the jacket back to him. Cynthiana may have been a small town, but that didn’t mean Rick knew where Daryl lived.

Finally Mrs. Bloom announced that the hour was up, and Rick joined the hoard of other kids eager in their quest to get outside to freedom. He decided to go back to his own house first. Maybe he could somehow find Daryl’s address online. 

“Rick, wait up,” someone called out. 

Rick stopped and turned to see Beth strolling over to him. She clutched a scrap of paper in her hand, which she held out to him. 

“Are you really friends with Daryl?” she asked. When Rick stared at her blankly, she said, “It ain’t a hard a question. Yes or no. Do you hang out with him or not?”

Well, Rick was going to see Daryl later, so it wasn’t exactly a lie. “Yeah, I am,” he said.

“Good.” Beth waved the paper at him, and finally Rick took it. “That’s my phone number. In case, ya know, Daryl changes his mind. About tutoring me.” She looked away, as if what she was saying was difficult for her to admit. “I really do need help in school right now. Not to mention that I don’t think I can handle another lecture from Maggie about my grades.”

“I’ll make sure he gets this,” Rick promised.

“Thanks,” Beth said. “I’ll see ya ‘round.” 

Rick headed to his truck, and thankfully it started on the the first try. Unfortunately it was actually starting to get a bit cooler outside now that he was leaving the school so late, and of course his hunk-of-junk truck’s heat didn’t work. He glanced at Daryl’s hoodie, which he had dropped on the passenger seat. It had been oversized on Daryl, who was smaller, and would probably fit Rick, but how weird would it be for him to wear it right now?

_He never has to know,_ Rick thought, deciding that he’d just wear it until he got home and then change into one of his own sweatshirts. Rick zipped into the hoodie before he’d have time to change his mind and then started towards home. Full of holes or not, the jacket provided a surprising amount of warmth. Not a lot, but better than nothing. Plus it had the pleasant earthy scent of the outdoors. Rick was sort of embarrassed about how much he enjoyed the smell.

Shane was sitting on the front steps of his own house when Rick pulled into his driveway. He stood when Rick climbed out of his truck and crossed the street to him.

“Man, where have you been? My mom’s makin’ a shit ton of food and she wanted me to invite you over to dinner in a couple hours.” Shane looked Rick up and down and Rick immediately began to regret his decision. “What the hell are you wearing?” 

“I was cold,” Rick said, an edge of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

“That’s good and fine, but isn’t this thing Daryl’s?” Shane asked, picking at a particularly large hole in one of the sleeves.

Rick stepped back and took the jacket off as fast as he could manage without turning this into an even bigger deal than it actually was. “He had detention with me and he forgot it, okay? I want to take it back to him. Do you know where he lives?”

Shane looked like he had a million more questions about what Rick was doing wearing Daryl’s jacket, but thankfully he dropped it. “This can’t wait until tomorrow because…?”

“Shane, can you please just be helpful for once?” Rick groaned.

“All right, fine,” Shane relented. “I was in the car once when my dad got called down there. I can take you there.”

Shane started across the street towards his car and Rick followed, relieved that Shane didn’t seem to have any more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm, yeah. So Rick was definitely a creeper with Daryl's jacket. But that was kind of cute, right? Right? Okay, I'm going to go now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick brings Daryl his hoodie, and Daryl realizes it's his turn to bring Rick something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's literally one in the morning right now but who sleeps these days? Psh, not me. Too busy living life. (I wish.) Anyway, here's an update! I hope you enjoy!

When Daryl slipped quietly into his house after detention, he was relieved to hear snores coming out of his father’s favorite armchair, accompanied by the buzz of the television floating from the living room. He crept past the room, careful to avoid the long-ago memorized spots on the hardwood floor that he knew would creak. 

He stopped outside Merle’s bedroom door, which lay half open, and toed it open the rest of the way. As expected, the room was empty, save for the piles of dirty clothes and crumpled trash littering the space. As soon as Merle had turned eighteen he had dropped out of school and spent as little time in the Dixon household as he could manage, and sometimes Daryl almost forgot he had a brother. Hell, maybe he didn’t. A brother was someone who was supposed to look out for you, weren’t they?

Daryl turned away from Merle’s bedroom in disgust and crossed the hall to his own. It was a small space with a mattress pushed up against one wall and an old table serving a desk pushed up against another. Daryl liked to keep his room neat, not that he owned much to organize. Unlike Merle, he refused to resort to stealing. Daryl had had a part-time job at a grocery store after school for a while, but had gotten fired a month ago when some money went missing out of one of the registers. Of course he had been blamed even though he--unfortunately--had no idea where the cash had went. In a town as small as his, gossip spread like wildfire, and no one had wanted to hire Daryl since.

At least he had more time to hunt now, which was not only his only escape from some of the dark thoughts swirling around in his head, but also his way to keep food on the table. Every now and then Merle would show up with some money, but as soon as he was gone Will would blow through most of it buying more alcohol, more drugs, and then spend the remainder on junk food that he would make clear was for him and him only. And so Daryl would hunt.

He swung open his closet and pulled out his crossbow. Sometimes he was surprised Will didn’t sell it or simply destroy it just to spite him, but Daryl suspected his father enjoyed the fresh steak as much as he did, even if it was usually raccoon. Every now and then Daryl would take down a small deer, but it had been a while.

He walked over to the only part of his room he liked: the window, which overlooked the dense forest behind his house. He then turned ready to head outside and make use of the last couple hours of daylight left.

And that was when someone knocked on the door, the sound loud and reverberating throughout the tiny house.

Daryl all but sprinted to the front door, desperate to answer before whoever knocking woke up his father. He wasn’t sure if Will had noticed Daryl hadn’t come home from school right away that day, and he didn’t want to find out. His plan had been to let Will sleep through the night and hope he had forgotten by tomorrow.

Daryl yanked open the door and shoved past the person on the porch, not paying attention to who it was until he had the door safely shut. He looked up to find himself standing uncomfortably close to Rick Grimes.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” he growled, scrambling a few steps back.

Rick smiled, opening up dimples in his cheeks, oblivious to Daryl’s anger, or maybe just ignoring it. “Hey.” His eyes dropped downwards. “Is that...a crossbow?”

Daryl had almost forgotten he had run outside with the thing. He tossed it onto the plastic lawn chair that sat forlorn on the porch and then narrowed his eyes at Rick, noticing that the dude was gripping a familiar hoodie. “You fuckin’ idiot.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Rick said nonchalantly.

“Did you really come here just to give me my hoodie? To my house?” Daryl snatched the jacket out of Rick’s hands. “You...you have no right. What are you, stalkin’ me?”

Finally Rick frowned. “Well, Shane knew where you lived, so…” He nodded to the shiny brand new car idling at the curb.

Shane sat behind the wheel, blatantly staring, impatience written across his face, his car vastly out of place in Daryl’s shit stain of a neighborhood. Daryl could only imagine what Rick must be thinking of his house right now--a tiny one story with a dead lawn, dirtied peeling white paint, and a broken window right out front from years ago when Merle had thrown a baseball through it. Will had not been happy about that. No one had ever gotten around to fixing the window, not that they really had the money, so finally Daryl had taped a piece of cardboard over the empty pane. 

“Look, I’m sorry, man,” Rick said. “I didn’t realize this was gonna be a big deal. I just wanted to drop the jacket off and then go. I have to get to work tonight, anyway.”

“I don’t need ya showing up here unannounced,” Daryl snarled, “and I certainly don’t need you turnin’ me into some kinda damn charity case.”

“Is that what you think I’m doin’?” For the first time, annoyance had begun to creep into Rick’s voice.

Daryl was relieved. Rick acting all friendly towards him was downright unbearable, but if Rick was mad him, well, just add him to the long list of people Daryl had disappointed in life.

“The charade is up,” Daryl said, the fight leaking out of him as quickly as it had come. “You can stop tryna talk to me all the time now.”

“Wow.” Rick shook his head, something like disbelief in his eyes. “I was only trying to be nice, but lesson fuckin’ learned.” He stormed over to Shane’s car, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door. Shane gave Daryl one last cold stare before driving away.

“Shit!” Daryl kicked the side of the house and instantly regret it when it let out a loud thud. He collected his crossbow and went back inside, knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on hunting now.

Will was wide awake when Daryl stepped back inside, still sitting in his chair. Daryl stopped in the threshold of the living room, waiting. He knew that if he kept on walking to his bedroom, acted like he didn’t notice Will, that it would only make his father angrier.

“Who was that out there? In the fucking Audi,” Will said gruffly, lighting up a cigarette.

“‘S no one,” Daryl said. 

“No one my ass,” Will snorted. “Who. Was. It?”

Daryl sighed. “Someone from school. Just a friend.”

“Oh, because you suddenly have friends now. Look who’s Mr. Popular all of a sudden.” Will stood, slowly and with purpose, and Daryl found himself shrinking back despite himself.

No matter how many times Daryl told himself that he was used to his father, no matter how many times he told himself that the pain, both external and internal, had grown to be nothing more than a numb itch, Daryl was still afraid. That fear was everything and all things, it consumed him until it was him, until it was all Daryl had, and he would be nothing without it.

Will sauntered over to Daryl, taking his sweet time. “So why was this friend here, son?”

“Just bringin’ me this,” Daryl mumbled, raising the jacket. “I left it at school.”

Will laughed, and for a moment Daryl thought he couldn’t breathe. And then that moment was over, and Will moved so fast that Daryl hardly saw it coming. Next thing he knew, Daryl was being slammed against the wall, the air getting knocked out of him, and he really couldn’t breathe then, and Will’s hand was wrapped around Daryl’s throat, pinning him there. His head had hit the wall hard and he had to blink a few times as the world blurred around him like he was on some kind of carnival ride. Will was saying something but everything was muffled and Daryl couldn’t make sense of any of it, until suddenly it wasn’t, and it all slid back into clarity at once.

“...weak as always,” Will was spitting into Daryl’s face, his breath reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

Daryl tried to turn his head away and Will tightened his grip, leaning in even closer. Without warning searing pain exploded in Daryl’s right shoulder. Any ounce of fog left in his mind cleared, and he realized Will was holding his cigarette against Daryl’s skin there.

Will looked into his son’s eyes as he did it, seeming to challenge him. Daryl concentrated on his breathing, what little he could manage through the sliver of his throat that wasn’t being squeezed off by Will. But no matter how many cheesy, overused mantras he told himself-- _pain is just weakness leaving the body_ or _pain is all in the mind_ \--fuck, that hurt. Finally Daryl gave up, unable to keep a tear from escaping and slipping down his cheek.

Will tossed Daryl to the ground. “Fuckin’ pathetic,” he said in disgust. He reached down, grabbed Daryl’s jacket, and started going through the pockets. “What’re you hiding? You’re always hidin’ something. You got any money you ain’t telling me about?”

Daryl didn’t answer, just stayed on his hands and knees on the floor, sucking in painful gasps of air, each breath a wheeze. He knew his jacket pockets were empty and Will did too; when did he ever have any money? All of this was nothing more but a show.

Except that his pockets weren’t so empty, after all. Will pulled out a slip of paper that Daryl had never seen before and stared at it in surprise. Then he burst out laughing and dropped it and the jacket in front of Daryl. 

“I sure hope that’s a girl’s number, you fuckin’ fag,” he said, still chuckling as he turned away. “Now get the fuck outta my sight. I don’t want to have to look at ya.”

Daryl grabbed the jacket and the paper and pulled himself up on shaky legs. He swayed back and forth for a second or two before running out of the house. He didn’t stop running until he was two blocks over, almost collapsing all over again as he leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath. 

He tried not to think about his father’s words, which somehow stung more than the cigarette burn. Daryl had never really been attracted to anyone, but certainly not any girl. And sometimes he had found himself noticing things about other guys that he probably shouldn’t be. He had always pushed the feelings away, repulsed by himself. 

He straightened up and punched the tree trunk as hard as he could, but this, of course, only resulted in scraping up his knuckles and making him feel worse. A kid rode by on his bike, shooting Daryl a weird look, and he knew he had to get a hold of himself. He pulled on his jacket and took a moment to examine the paper with a phone number written across it.

It wasn’t a number Daryl knew and it definitely hadn’t been in his jacket before he left it at the school. The only explanation was that it must have come from Rick. What, was Rick trying to leave Daryl his phone number now? Where did the guy get off, thinking Daryl would even want it?

Normally when he was upset he would disappear into the woods, but he found his feet instead leading him deeper into town where all the businesses were--and where there were more people. He kept his head down while simultaneously trying to figure out where he was going. A friend of Merle’s whose house his brother sometimes crashed at was nearby. Daryl decided to head that way, see if Merle was around. His brother may have not been the most comforting person in the world, but at least Merle was a familiar face not looking to beat up on him.

Daryl stopped when he realized he was passing by a diner. Morgan’s, where Rick had said he worked. He fingered the phone number still clutched in his hand. He might as well go inside, tell Rick exactly where he could stick it. After the shitty night Daryl was having, yelling at someone would feel good, and Rick had said he was working tonight. 

Daryl had never been in the diner before; had never had a reason to. A few people sat scattered at various tables. He subconsciously pulled his hood up, remembering his black eye. The diner was a basic 50s theme, all black-and-white checkered floors, baby blue pleather seats, and complete with a jukebox in the corner.

Sure enough there was Rick, standing behind the counter of the breakfast bar lined with patrons sitting at barstools. He looked like he had just arrived himself and was currently tying a white apron around his waist that looked ridiculous on him.

“Hi, I’ll be with you in one minute,” Rick started to say when Daryl approached, but his words faltered when he looked up and realized who it was.

***

To say Rick was surprised to see Daryl standing in front of him, in the diner, would be an understatement. Less than twenty minutes ago he had just been getting chewed out by the guy. Who was stalking who now?

“What, forgot something?”

“No, but you did.” Daryl held up a scrap of paper, and if looks could kill, Rick would already be on the ground. “I don’t want your number.”

“What?” For a second Rick was confused before figuring out what Daryl was going on about. He laughed despite himself, temporarily forgetting he was supposed to be angry at Daryl. “That’s not my number, it’s Beth’s. She gave it to me to give to you and you kinda ran me off your porch before I had time to tell you about it.”

“Why would Beth want me to have her number?” Now Daryl just looked plain embarrassed, and Rick had to wonder how Daryl would have reacted if the number really was his. 

“She really wants you to tutor her, Daryl,” Rick said. “I don’t know what the deal is with that, but if you have the chance to help someone, you should take it. That’s the way the world works.”

Daryl let out a disbelieving snort.

“Well that’s the way the world _should_ work,” Rick said. 

“That hasn’t been my experience,” Daryl grumbled. He pulled down his hood, maybe to prove a point, or maybe just because people in the diner were starting to give him looks like they thought he might shoot up the place.

Rick noticed fresh red marks that he was sure hadn’t been wrapped around Daryl’s neck earlier and for a second he froze. Had he somehow fucked things up even more by going to Daryl’s house? Rick almost asked if Daryl was okay, but then he remembered how Daryl had reacted the last time Rick had thrown that question at him, and bit his tongue.

Daryl looked around awkwardly. “I guess I’d better go, then. Sorry to bother you.” His words were tinged with annoyance, though Rick suspected it was directed more towards himself.

“Before you do, do you want somethin’ to eat?” Rick asked.

“I don’t got any money,” Daryl said. He looked away and quickly added, “On me.”

“Of course,” Rick said. “You can pay me back later. You aren’t a charity case, right?” Really Rick couldn’t care less if Daryl paid him back. It was the least he could do. Besides, something was telling him he shouldn’t let Daryl go back home, not yet at least, and maybe Rick could get him to open up over some food.

Daryl seemed conflicted, but then another one of the waiters walked by with a plate of fresh bacon and his resolve seemed to break. “Fine. But I’m payin’ you back.”

“I know,” Rick said, suppressing a triumphant grin. “You can sit wherever you want. I’ll grab a menu and be right with ya.” 

Rick turned away and entered the double doors that led back into the kitchen area. Morgan stood at the grill multitasking between cooking bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns. Morgan Jones, who was in his early forties, had opened the restaurant ten years ago after deciding that his job as a tax advisor wasn’t for him. Even though he owned the place, he was still in the diner each and every day, working the grill.

“What else am I going to do in this dead-end town?” he’d often say when asked about it.

“About time you show up,” Morgan said, but Rick knew the man was only pulling his leg. 

Rick had worked at Morgan’s since his freshmen year of high school, the year his father had died. He had to admit Morgan had become a sort of father figure to him.

“Hello to you to, Morgan,” Rick said, grabbing a menu off of the rack that sat across from the grill. “Now if you don’t mind, we have customers.”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Morgan replied. “That is what I pay you for, after all.”

When Rick went back out front he wasn’t surprised to find Daryl had chosen to sit at the booth in the farthest corner of the diner. He had selected the seat that faced the wall, away from the rest of the restaurant, and he seemed very invested in examining each and every individual packet of artificial sweetener out of the container on the table.

Rick walked over and set the menu down in front of Daryl. “Do you know what you want to drink?”

“What’re there so many different kinds of sugar for?” Daryl asked, holding up a packet of Splenda. “They all taste the same, don’t they?”

“Honestly...I don’t know,” Rick admitted. “If you want I can bring you some coffee and you can like, test them out. See if there’s really a difference.”

Daryl grimaced. “Nah, I’ll have a Coke.”

“So you don’t like coffee, huh? Good to know,” Rick said. 

Daryl shrugged, turning his attention to the menu. “What is this?” He pointed at a picture of an intimidating looking stack of waffles.

“Oh, that’s our special. Been so for the last year, and I’m pretty sure Morgan isn’t gonna change it until more than at least ten people actually order it,” Rick explained. “He calls them Five Layer Waffles. It’s a waffle topped with chocolate spread topped with another waffle topped with peanut butter topped with another waffle topped with strawberries topped with another waffle topped with marshmallow fluff topped with _another_ waffle loaded down with whipped cream and syrup.”

Daryl made a face and Rick laughed.

“I know how it sounds,” Rick said, “but it has been described as both _surprisingly decent_ and _I can’t tell if I love it or hate it_.”

“I guess I’ve gotta try it now, then,” Daryl said.

“Great. I’ll tell Morgan. Trust me, the dude’s gonna be enthralled.”

Six minutes later Rick was placing a diabetes attack waiting to happen and a Coke in front of Daryl. He slid into the booth across from Daryl, his own glass of soda in his hand. 

“I’m on break,” Rick said to Daryl’s questioning look.

“Didn’t ya just get here?”

“All right, fine. But it’s a slow night,” Rick said. “Morgan won’t mind, trust me.”

Daryl nodded and looked away. He slowly picked up his fork and used it to slice into the tower of waffles, and then somehow managed to fit an entire piece of five layers into his mouth all at once. He chewed for a long time before swallowing, and then he set down his fork and said nothing.

“Well?” Rick prompted. “How is it?”

“Surprisingly decent,” Daryl replied.

It took Rick a second, but then he burst out laughing. “Wow, was that a joke? I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

Daryl shrugged and then took another impressive bite of waffle. “Guess I’m full of surprises,” he grunted, mouth full.

“So are you going to call Beth?” Rick asked.

“Dunno.” Daryl was doing everything he could to avoid eye contact.

Undeterred, Rick continued to shamelessly stare Daryl down. “I think you should. She seemed pretty desperate when she asked me to give you her number.”

“Glad to know I’m her last resort.”

“Oh, come on. That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Rick sighed. “And apparently Mrs. Bloom thought it would be a good idea, too. That’s why you got so mad at her today, ain’t it?”

“No.” Daryl took a long drink of his soda and Rick waited. Sure enough, he had more to say. “She wanted me to do it so I’d feel more involved or whatever. But even that wasn’t the real reason why. She wanted me to do it so she’d feel like she tried. So she could feel all warm and fuzzy about herself, ‘cause she has to see me come into her class for first period every day and see the way I am.”

“And how are you?”

“What are you, my therapist now?”

“Hell no.” Rick grinned. “Then I’d have to charge you, and I’m very expensive. All I’m sayin’ is, don’t think of tutoring Beth as something you’re doin’ for Mrs. Bloom. Or even as something you’re doin’ for yourself. Think of it as something you’re doin’ for Beth. Not that you owe her anything, but it would be the right thing to do.”

Daryl stared into his Coke. “Maybe I’m a bad person,” he said quietly.

“No,” Rick said. “No, you’re not. I’ve only really known you for a day, and I can say that without a doubt.”

“Thanks,” Daryl whispered, and as always, Rick couldn’t tell if he had made things better or worse.

“Look at me doling out advice,” Rick said in an attempt to break the sudden tension. “Meanwhile I can’t even come up with a half decent way to ask my girlfriend to homecoming.”

“Can’t you just ask her?” Daryl was already halfway through his waffles.

“Are you kiddin’ me? She’d kill me. She’d probably go and tell all her friends about how lame I am. And my friend Glenn. Because apparently that’s a thing.”

“So what you’re sayin’,” Daryl said between bites, “is she wants to be asked in a way that she can brag to all her friends about?”

“I guess.”

“So why not make it into some sort of scavenger hunt or somethin’? Like, a clue a day until Friday. Tomorrow’s Tuesday, so that way it’s like you asked her four different ways.”

“That’s…” Rick blinked. “That’s actually a good idea. Lori loves that kinda stuff. Wow, you’re good at this, aren’t you?”

Daryl shrugged. 

“Seriously,” Rick said. “Are you going to homecoming? Do you have a girlfriend?”

Daryl snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Why is that, ‘Yeah right’? You aren’t bad to talk to when you aren’t yellin’ at me, and you’re a good lookin’ guy.” Rick cleared his throat. “Anyway, you should just ask someone. You’ve got two weeks. I’ll bet ya my next paycheck you can get someone to go with you by then.”

“Sure, I’ll get right on that,” Daryl said sarcastically. He pushed away his plate, which had somehow emptied itself without Rick even noticing. “Thanks for the food.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Rick looked around to find that while they had been talking, a few new guests had seated themselves around the diner. “I suppose I’d better get back to my job before Morgan flips out. But I’ll see ya at school. In sixth period. Last class of the day. That we have together.” He was babbling. Why was he babbling?

“Uh, yeah. English, I remember,” Daryl said, raising his eyebrows.

“Cool. Okay, bye.” Rick hurriedly walked away before he could say anything else stupid.

The next day at school, Lori found a note in her locker asking her to take part in a scavenger hunt and telling her to find her next clue tomorrow. Today’s clue was a chocolate-banana chapstick, and hopefully it would lead Lori to the only store in town that sold it the next day. Lori had to be the only person in the world to wear that weird flavor. She had had it on the first time they kissed, and Rick had been so flustered afterward that all he had been able to think to say was, “Interesting chapstick.” It was moments like that that he sometimes looked back on and had to wonder how Lori was still with him. It was also moments like that that almost reminded him why he was supposed to be in love with her.

“I wonder who this is from,” Lori said with a sly smile after reading the note. 

“Who knows?” Rick replied. “Guess you’re just going to have to wait and see.”

He and Lori parted ways and he started down the hall to his next class. He spotted Glenn standing outside a classroom and started over to say hi, but stopped a foot back when he realized who Glenn was talking to.

“Wait, really? Like...really?” Glenn was asking. “It’s really yes?”

Maggie stood in front of him, holding a bouquet of roses that he must have given her, smiling in amusement. “Yes it’s a yes. You know what yes means, right?”

“But...why?”

“You really want to be asking questions right now?” Maggie said. “Glenn, I want to go with you.”

“I’m just, like, amazed this is actually happening,” Glenn said. “This isn’t a joke, is it?”

“No, it’s not a joke,” Maggie said with a smirk. “But you aren’t gonna wear that hat to the dance, are you?”

Glenn reached up, touching his baseball cap. “What’s wrong with the hat?”

“Nothin’. It’s just, I never see you take it off. I’m startin’ to wonder if you actually have hair underneath that thing.”

“Oh my gosh,” Glenn said. “I do. I...I do, I swear. Do you want to see?”

Maggie laughed. “I know, Glenn. _That_ was a joke.” She reached out and took Glenn’s phone from his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and then handed it back to him. “There’s my number. Call me, okay?” With one last parting smile she walked away.

“Whoa,” Glenn breathed.

“I agree,” Rick said, walking up.

“Oh, God,” Glenn groaned. “Did you just see that?”

“Some of it,” Rick admitted. “But don’t worry. It was...sweet.”

“Shut up,” Glenn said, burying his face into his hands. “Oh, man. Oh, man. I’m going to screw this up, dude, I already know it.”

“Glenn, it sounded like Maggie really wanted to go to the dance with you. It’s going to be fine,” Rick reassured his friend.

Daryl walked by in the hall then. He had his jacket on but wasn’t wearing the hood, and kids were keeping their distance, walking around him like he had the black plague. Rick felt a flash of anger fill him. No wonder Daryl seemed to think so little of himself. Rick raised his hand in a wave and Daryl looked at him, but then quickly looked away and kept on walking, and it was like yesterday in the diner had never happened.

“That’s Daryl Dixon. Are you friends with him?” Glenn asked.

“Sort of,” Rick said, but now he wasn’t so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this fic hasn't been twist-y enough yet. But twists are coming, I swear!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick invites Daryl to the movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be my longest chapter yet! It’s also entirely out of Daryl’s POV, which I didn’t intend for, it just sort of happened. So hopefully you guys don’t mind hearing lots from him. :O

Daryl wanted to give Rick a chance to change his mind. Yesterday at Morgan’s it had felt like they could almost, possibly, just maybe be friends. From a young age Daryl had learned to keep his guard up, to limit the amount of pain that only someone truly close to you can be sure to provide. Kids had always sensed that wall he had built around himself, regarded it curiously, and then moved on, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. 

So that was why, when Rick tried to wave to him in the hall, Daryl pretended he hadn’t seen, moving on to his class, to sit quietly among faceless strangers who couldn’t give a damn about who he was, if he were anything at all.

Daryl managed to avoid Rick for the rest of the day, which wasn’t very hard considering Rick ran with the popular crowd, constantly surrounded by Shane and half the football team, regardless of the fact that he wasn’t actually on the team himself. Every day at lunch Daryl would leave the school and wander around the nearby wooded area, so he didn’t have to worry about bumping into Rick in the cafeteria, either. Today he found a fallen tree and sat on the log, puffing on a cigarette from the pack he had found under Merle’s bed. 

But then there was sixth period. Rick sat near the front of the classroom and Daryl all the way in the back, but he knew Rick would find a way to talk to him if he really wanted to. And Daryl could ditch, but he had a perfect record, straight As, and this was all something he was secretly proud of even though Merle would probably call him a pansy for caring. Sure Daryl had been late to first period a lot, but he had never actually missed a day of high school, not once, no matter how much it literally hurt to get out of bed some mornings. Because this personal victory was more than looking good in school to Daryl. It was being able to hold the small bit of power that no matter what his father did to him, he wouldn’t let it break him, not completely. 

So when sixth period rolled around, Daryl reluctantly went to class and slid into his seat. Rick walked in a few seconds later, instantly zeroing in on Daryl. Rick walked over, stood there for a second or two, and then sat down at the desk next to him. Daryl bristled, waiting for the onslaught of questions. The _What’s wrong with you?_ sure to come. But instead, Rick just started talking.

“Did you finish that essay that’s due today? I know we had all month, but I’m not gonna lie, I wrote the whole thing last night. I kept tellin’ myself I’d write it the next day, the next day, and then last night I realized the next day was the day it was due and I ended up pulling an all-nighter.” Rick pulled his essay out and examined it, frowning. “And I’m still pretty sure I’m not going to get any better than a C. I didn’t actually read the book, did you?”

The book had been _Brave New World_ by Aldous Huxley, and it was actually one of Daryl’s favorites. His mom had liked to read once, and he had all her old books. He had read it before even having been assigned it, and the essay had been a piece of cake.

But to Rick, Daryl responded with, “Somewhat.” 

The bell starting class rang just as Andrea Harrison showed up. The class had assigned seats and Rick was currently sitting in hers. Andrea and Daryl had a good thing going--they had sat next to one another since the beginning of the year and had managed to avoid saying a single word to the other. Daryl was desperate to have her back. This whole Rick thing was uncharted territory, and Daryl sort of enjoyed listening to Rick talk, which was scaring him.

Andrea cleared her throat and Rick looked up. “Rick,” she said.

“Oh, hey, Andrea,” Rick said casually, not looking the least bit concerned. “This is your seat, isn’t it?”

The door swung open and Mr. Baker, their teacher, walked in. “Sorry I’m late,” he muttered. He was a pale, wiry, tall man who never smiled, and kids liked to call him Slender Man behind his back. “Lose your way to your seat, Mr. Grimes?” he asked, noticing the stare-off Andrea and Rick seemed to be having.

“I was actually wonderin’ if I could sit here for today,” Rick said, finally tearing his gaze away from Andrea. “I’m, uh, farsighted.”

“If Andrea doesn’t mind switching, I couldn’t care less,” the teacher grumbled. “Can I start my class now?”

“Fine, whatever,” Andrea said. “You can sit here from now on if you want to so badly. But tell Shane that if he doesn’t come get his stupid letterman jacket out of my house by tonight that I’m burning it.” 

The class let out snickers as Andrea strolled over to her new seat and sat down. Daryl didn’t even want to know what that was all about.

“Thank you for that, Miss Harrison. Okay, everyone, you know what day it is. Essays out.”

The class’s laughter was instantly replaced by groans at the teacher’s words. Mr. Baker started around the classroom, collecting both essays and excuses for lack thereof alike. Daryl tried to make himself as small as possible, letting his hair, which he grew long exactly for this purpose, fall over his eyes. He wasn’t really one for small talk and if Rick wanted to let their previous “conversation”—if you could even count Daryl’s one word response that—die out, then Daryl was all for it.

Rick, of course, had other plans. “Hey, I just wanted to be able to tell you thanks again for the scavenger hunt idea. Lori seems pretty pleased. And I’m thinkin’ that on Friday I lead her to the bleachers on the football field where we first met—I was at one of the games and she was cheering—and I can decorate it, get a sign or somethin’.”

“Hm.” Daryl knew he was being rude, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even sure why he was trying so hard to shut down this interaction with Rick. He liked Rick, didn’t he? The guy definitely wasn’t as unbearable as some of the other kids at this school, anyway. 

Or maybe Daryl did know why he wanted this to end. Because his future was so contiguous he could see the end of it sitting right in front of his face, and there was no point. But people like Rick couldn’t see it, refused to, and they kept on going even after people like Daryl could not, and they would be a million miles ahead by the time they stopped to realize that Daryl had faded away.

“Daryl, are you listening to me?”

Daryl looked up despite himself, and he was struck for the first time by just how blue Rick’s eyes were. They were light, like glass, or pools of water, and it seemed impossible to Daryl that he couldn’t have noticed them until this moment. Realizing he was staring, gaping like a fucking idiot, he looked away again, wishing he could disappear.

“Okay, well, obviously you didn’t hear me so I’ll repeat myself,” Rick said. “Glenn and I are goin’ to the movies after school today and you should come. Glenn’s a junior but he’s cool and I bet you two’d get along. But if the movie sucks, blame him. It’s his turn to pick.”

“In case it ain’t obvious, I’m not exactly loaded with cash,” Daryl said, his voice sounding too harsh even to his own ears.

Rick didn’t skip a beat. “All the more reason to take advantage of today. We also take turns payin’, and person who picks the movie buys. So that’s Glenn.” 

That was even worse. Daryl already owed Rick for the food yesterday. The last thing he needed on top of that was to feel indebted to some kid he didn’t even know. 

Rick seemed to read his mind and added, “Glenn is a nice guy, he won’t care. But if it is some big deal, I can always pay for you for now and we can just add that to your runnin’ tab.” 

Daryl could tell by the amused lilt in Rick’s voice that he was only humoring him. But whether Rick was taking all these favors seriously or not, Daryl fully intended on paying him back for everything.

“Fine, I can go,” Daryl said quickly, and he wanted to take the words back the second they left his mouth. “But if I do can you do _me_ a favor and give Andrea her seat back tomorrow?”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, sure.” 

Daryl risked a glance up. Rick was hurt. He had a good poker face, but since noticing his eyes, they were all Daryl could notice, and they easily gave Rick’s true emotions away. But Daryl wasn’t about to look like an even bigger jackass by saying never mind, so he left things as they were, which sort of killed the mood for the rest of the class.

But the second class ended, Rick was back to his chipper self, excitedly going on about what movie he thought Glenn might have them see, refusing to let what he probably saw as some huge victory go to waste. Daryl followed Rick out of the school and to whichever car was Glenn’s, which was where they were meeting. 

He had to wonder why Rick was trying so hard despite how uninviting Daryl was making himself out to be. It was always possible he was just some charity case to Rick, but somehow he couldn’t see Rick being like that. It seemed like Rick genuinely wanted to be his friend. But Will had said it himself—since when did Daryl have friends? Why would things suddenly change now? He had Carol of course, but they also never saw each other outside of school. Daryl was terrified that the second he started to believe that other people might want to hang out with him that everyone would jump out and laugh at what a fool they had made of him. So he kept his metaphorical wall up, and he kept Rick firmly on the other side of it, so that if things didn’t work out, he would be able to step out of the fray unscathed.

They stopped in front of a baby blue BMW Bug convertible that surely couldn’t belong to Glenn, but then Rick said, “Don’t say anything about the car. Glenn’s mom gave him her old one when he got his license and he’s still saving up for a new one. Trust me, he’s very bitter.”

“Oh.” Daryl wanted to smile, but he was also stubborn and didn’t want Rick to know he was winning, so he held it back. “I won’t.”

And then a voice behind him exclaimed loudly, “Cute car. You pick it out yourself?”

Rick and Daryl both turned. An Asian kid stood in front of them—assumedly Glenn—along with a girl with short brown hair and bouquet of a dozen red roses in her hands. She had been the one who had spoken, and she was currently grinning at Glenn, unashamed.

“Laugh all you want, but at least it’s a convertible,” Glenn said, turning slightly red. “What do you drive to school? A tractor?”

“Oh, ha, ha. What is that supposed to be, a farm joke?”

“Uh, guys, this is Daryl,” Rick spoke up. “Daryl, this is Glenn. And Maggie Greene.”

Greene. Beth’s older sister. Daryl remembered hearing people talk about the Greene sisters around school. If he looked hard at Maggie, she and Beth sort of looked alike, but he never would have guessed.

“Maggie is Glenn’s…” Rick paused, clearly trying to think of what to call her. “Homecoming date,” he finally said.

“And his date-date,” Maggie replied, linking arms with Glenn. “He invited me to the movies with y’all. Hopefully you don’t mind.”

“Yeah. Please don’t mind,” Glenn said, giving Rick a pointed look.

“Of course I don’t,” Rick said. “I invited Daryl, too.”

Glenn turned his attention to Daryl and Daryl tried to will his black eye to look less disgusting. He had woken up this morning to find the swelling had gone down significantly, but it was still an ugly wilted purple color. He waited to be rejected, but to his surprise, Glenn immediately smiled.

“Awesome.” Glenn reached out and clapped Daryl on the shoulder, right on the cigarette burn, and Daryl had to hold his breath to keep from wincing. “It’s good to meet you.”

Daryl slowly breathed out. “You too.”

“All right, well, let’s go,” Glenn said. He hurried around to the passenger side of the car, opening the door. “Maggie, you can sit up front with me. Obviously.” The poor kid was sweating bullets.

“Why is that obvious?” Rick asked, earning himself a death glare from Glenn. “Sorry,” he laughed. “I’m only messin’ with you.”

Maggie thanked Glenn and got into her seat, turning a laugh into a cough. Rick and Daryl went around to the other side of the car, and Rick stepped forward, opening the door for Daryl.

“Allow me,” Rick said, and it was obvious he was only mocking Glenn, but it suddenly became screamingly apparent to Daryl that this whole casual movie thing had turned into some sort of weird double date.

Daryl’s first instinct was to bolt. To just up and run away in the opposite direction. But that would be ridiculous, so he fought the urge and stayed put. He could feel his face going hot and it was like everyone’s eyes were boring literal holes into him. He climbed into the back of the BMW as fast as he could, buckled, and faced the window, staring hard out of it. He only knew Rick had gotten into the car when he felt the seat beside him slightly concave.

Glenn got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut, turning the radio onto a station playing today’s hits. He started the car, oblivious to the awkwardness that Daryl thought must be coming off of himself in waves. In fact, no one seemed to notice, not even Rick. Which meant Daryl was only overreacting. If even Rick was this clueless to Daryl’s discomfort, then that had to mean that nothing was going on between them. Of course. Not for the first time that day, Daryl felt like a complete moron, but at least he could relax. Though he wasn’t sure why his relief left him feeling quite so hollow.

Maggie turned around in her seat to face Daryl. “Hey.”

He grudgingly turned away from the relative safety of the window. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to thank ya.”

Daryl blinked. “What?” 

“Beth told me you were tutorin’ her. I really appreciate it. She needs someone to look out for her, ya know? And try as I might, I can’t always be there for her.” 

“What?” Daryl repeated.

Maggie frowned. “What do you mean, what?” Her frown deepened. “Shit. She lied to me, didn’t she?”

“I…” Daryl trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“She’s been doin’ a lot of that lately,” Maggie sighed, turning back around in her seat.

“But you are gonna tutor her, aren’t you?” Rick asked Daryl. “So it’ll all still work out.”

“I called her last night and told her I would do it,” Daryl suddenly said. He didn’t know why he lied; it wasn’t like Beth had done anything that deserved him covering for her. But there had been something in the way Maggie’s happy expression had instantly died that told him this was bigger than Beth’s bad grades, bigger than him wanting to be a stubborn asshole. 

“You did?” Maggie said doubtfully.

“We’re meetin’ tomorrow after school,” Daryl said. He could feel Rick giving him a questioning look.

“Great,” Maggie said, her tone once again growing chipper. “I’ll make sure Beth brings all her work tomorrow. She’s really behind on homework since she was outta school for three weeks.”

“What’s that about, anyway?” Glenn asked. “Did she get strep throat or something? I got it last year and it knocked me on my ass for two whole weeks. And of course with my luck those two weeks happened to take place during winter break, so I had the worst Christmas of my life.”

“No,” Maggie said quietly. “Our, uh, Mom passed. Six months ago. I mean, Beth’s mom, my step-mom, but I thought of her as my mother. It was a car accident. We all took it hard but Beth…she needed a break.”

“Oh, shit. Shit. I’m an idiot,” Glenn cursed. “Maggie, I am so sorry.”

“Glenn, it’s really fine,” Maggie said. “You didn’t know.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the car and Daryl tried to come up with something consoling to say. His own mother had died when he was ten when she fell asleep smoking in bed. She had long since turned to drinking to escape her reality, and as always she had been surrounded by spilled alcohol. Daryl still remembered hearing one of the less sensitive firefighters remarking, “She must’ve gone up like gasoline and a couple a’ matches.” 

But at the end of the day Daryl didn’t really know what it was like to mourn a mother. He had lost his own years before she actually died. Even when she had still been with him he had forgotten what her smile looked like, how her laugh sounded, and he had never known what it was like to fall asleep to a fucking bedtime story.

Rick spoke up then, breaking the silence. “My dad died a few years ago. Cancer. He had been in pain for a while so it was sort of…better, if that makes sense? But it still hurt like hell. So if you ever need to talk, I’m there for you. We all are.”

“Thanks,” Maggie said, and then she laughed. “God. We’re a depressing lot, aren’t we?”

“I picked out a comedy if that helps,” Glenn said slowly, sounding unsure of himself.

Maggie laughed again. “Yeah. Yeah, that helps, Glenn.”

At the theater Rick wouldn’t shut up, going through practically the entire menu to make sure Daryl didn’t want anything. Finally Daryl settled for a soda just to make Rick happy. 

“We can share the popcorn,” Rick said, holding up the bucket he had gotten.

“I don’t like popcorn,” Daryl quickly said, even though he did. He had never been to the movies before—Merle had gone but Daryl had never been invited—and he had to admit he was curious on what the big deal was over movie theater popcorn. He had only ever had the microwave stuff. But the last thing he needed was for some sort of accidental hand touch like what happened in all the chick flicks, so he settled into his seat and drank his Coke.

After the movie everyone was in a much better mood. It had been some dumb comedy like all the rest, but it had been a good time. Glenn and Maggie were also really good about including Rick and Daryl in their conversations, so Daryl was mostly able to ignore the fact that he had been paired off with Rick for the afternoon.

They hung out in the movie theater lobby afterward, sitting at one of the tables and telling stories. Somehow jobs got brought up—Maggie worked on her family farm for a “very, very measly allowance” as she put it, Rick of course worked at the diner, and Glenn was a delivery driver for a pizza place. Daryl usually wasn’t one to offer up unnecessary information about himself, but for once he found himself wanting to fit in, so he told them about how he had been fired from the grocery store, which they all seemed to find hilarious. Come to think of it, it was sort of funny. Daryl had hated the job, anyway.

“I wonder why they thought you took the money,” Maggie said. “It’s not even like you look like a bad kid.”

“Really?” That was the first time Daryl had ever heard that one. “What do I look like then?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie said. “Guys don’t like to hear adorable, do they?”

Daryl grimaced.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Maggie snorted, standing. “Do you guys want some ice cream? I’m buyin’.” She nodded at the ice cream counter set up with the other concessions.

“Are you sure?” Glenn asked.

“Glenn, you’ve paid for everything else. It’s the least I can do,” Maggie reassured him.

“I’d love a scoop of mint chocolate chip,” Rick said.

“I guess I’ll take vanilla,” Glenn said.

“Vanilla? Plain vanilla?” Maggie asked.

“I’m a man of simple tastes,” Glenn protested.

“Weirdo. I myself will not be satisfied until I have a scoop of peanut butter fudge. What about you, Daryl?”

Daryl sat there quietly, not knowing what to say and wondering if there was a way to get out of this. He had just met Maggie today and he had already learned that she could be pretty forceful.

“Daryl, you had better not say you aren’t hungry,” Rick warned. “We’ve been at school all day and all you got during the movie was a small Coke. There’s no way you aren’t starvin’.”

As if on cue, Daryl felt his stomach rumble. Once he got home he wouldn’t have anything to eat since he hadn’t ended up going hunting yesterday, and he had already missed the best hours of daylight to hunt today. But there was still one problem…

“I’ve never had ice cream,” Daryl said.

“Really?” Rick laughed like he thought it was a joke, but then grew serious when Daryl didn’t laugh with him. “Oh,” he said.

“Dude, never?” Glenn asked in disbelief. “As in, never never?”

“Yep,” Daryl muttered.

“Are you, like, really into fro-yo?” Glenn asked. 

“No, I haven’t had that either,” Daryl admitted unhappily.

For a moment it was quiet as everyone mulled that one over, but only for a moment. Maggie was quick to act like nothing Daryl had said was weird in the slightest, which he definitely appreciated. 

“You like chocolate, don’t you?” she asked. “Everyone likes chocolate.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to—”

“Chocolate it is then,” she announced before walking away.

Glenn stood as well, starting after Maggie. “I’ll help her carry it back,” he called over his shoulder.

Daryl found himself alone with Rick, sitting directly across from him at the table. Really it wasn’t any different from when they had sat together last night at the diner, but now Daryl found himself so aware of Rick. Of how close they were, of how if he just barely extended his foot, he could probably touch Rick’s leg. And things were definitely going back to feeling all date-y, and now they were getting fucking ice cream for God’s sake, and everyone knew Daryl was some freak who had gone almost eighteen years of his life without trying it. 

“Sorry if I sounded like I was makin’ fun of you,” Rick said. “I wasn’t. I was just surprised is all. Besides, there’s lots of things I haven’t done. Like, I’ve never been outta this damn town. Not even once. Shane and I are planning to take a road trip to Disney World for our senior trip at the end of the year. But until then…never been out of Cynthiana.”

“I have,” Daryl said.

“See? Lucky you.”

It had been for his mother’s funeral.

“I haven’t exactly had a normal childhood,” Daryl grumbled.

“I kind of got that when you came out of your house yesterday with a crossbow. A small part of me was concerned you were about to shoot me,” Rick said with a smile.

He had a nice smile, Daryl decided. It seemed easy, natural for him, like he didn’t even have to think about it. A smile like that could be dangerous.

“Ice cream’s here!” Glenn cheered, appearing out of nowhere with two cones in his hand.

Daryl jumped, nearly toppling out of his chair.

“Whoa, man, did I really scare you that bad?” Glenn asked. He handed Rick’s ice cream to him and sat down with his vanilla.

Maggie approached the table holding two more ice cream cones. “Here you are, Daryl,” she said, handing him his and taking her seat next to Glenn.

Nobody was eating their ice cream. Daryl stared at his. Everyone else stared at Daryl. He could feel their eyes on him; they weren’t even trying to be subtle about it. He knew no one was going to stop watching him until he tried the freakin’ dessert. Slowly, he raised it to his lips.

“Prepare to be amazed,” Rick said with that stupid grin again. 

It was cold. Of course it was cold, he wasn’t that clueless, he knew what ice cream was. But still. It was cold. Cold, sweet, creamy…and chocolate, which Daryl loved, which was an added bonus. Though honestly he was sure he would want to eat an entire tub of this stuff even if it were flavorless. There was something about the texture, the feeling, that made ice cream one of the best things Daryl had ever tried.

“Oh my God, the anticipation is killing me.” Glenn leaned forward in his seat. “You like it, right?”

Daryl smiled.

“Holy shit,” Rick said.

Daryl’s smile instantly flickered off. Had he done something wrong?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before,” Rick told Daryl. He thought for a moment. “Yeah, no, this was definitely the first time.”

“Wait, really? But you have like the cutest smile ever!” Maggie insisted. “Well, after Glenn, of course,” she said, glancing at him.

Daryl focused on eating his ice cream and praying that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“What about me?” Rick asked jokingly.

“You can have third best smile,” Maggie allowed.

“Oh, come on,” Rick said. “Third? Really?”

Daryl looked up from his ice cream. “He has dimples,” he said. And instantly wanted to punch himself in the face.

Everyone stared at him. Daryl wondered if it would make things better or worse if he smashed his ice cream in his face. Pro: he wouldn’t be able to see. Con: well, he’d have ice cream in his face, and then he would have to explain _that._

“Does he?” Maggie said, breaking the tension slightly. “Hmm…I guess that does bump you up a little, Rick.”

A normal conversation picked up again but this time Daryl stayed out of it, letting their words fade into background noise as he ate. It had been a day far, far out of his comfort zone and as fun as parts of it had been—and as much as he had thought he’d never say this—he was ready to go home. He’d have to come up with some excuse on where he’d been for his father, but hopefully Will had gotten all of the fight out of him the previous day. Daryl caught Rick watching him a few times but ignored it.

Glenn drove them all home since Shane had given Rick a ride to school that day and Maggie had gotten a ride from her dad. He stopped at Rick’s place first. It was a nice two-story house with a front lawn that someone was clearly keeping up with, and there definitely weren’t any broken windows in sight. Daryl felt even more humiliated over Rick seeing his dump yesterday. 

“You can let me out here too,” Daryl told Glenn. “I live really close and I don’t mind walkin’.”

Rick, who was already standing outside of the car, raised his eyebrows at Daryl. That was a lie, and Rick knew it, but the last thing Daryl needed was another strange car showing up outside of his house. Besides, Rick may have not been phased by the way Daryl was living, but Rick also seemed to live in his own world. Daryl could only imagine how Maggie and Glenn would react.

“Are you sure, dude? Because it’s no problem,” Glenn said.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Daryl climbed out of the car before anyone could protest anymore. Thankfully Rick kept his mouth shut.

“Okay, well, it was nice meeting you, Daryl,” Glenn said. “If you ever see me at school say hi, okay?” 

“That goes for me too,” Maggie said. “See ya guys.”

Daryl nodded and Rick waved, and Glenn drove off, honking a goodbye. 

“You gonna tell me what that was all about?” Rick asked Daryl.

Daryl’s mind raced to come up with an excuse, but then he thought of something. “No,” he decided. “And I don’t think I really owe you a reason, either.”

Rick nodded. “Fair enough. So you like walkin’. Nothing wrong with that. Do you care if I tag along?”

“What, why?” Daryl felt himself shifting into panic mode, fight or flight taking hold.

“Your house is on the way to the grocery store and my mom wanted me to go after school to pick some things up,” Rick explained. “And you know what, it’s a nice night. I wouldn’t mind a walk myself.”

Daryl studied Rick, trying to gauge whether or not he was lying. But at the end of the day the guy had that excellent poker face, and it was a whole lot easier just to let him come than to argue it further.

“Sure,” Daryl said.

“Great. I’m just gonna run inside and ask my mom what she needs. You want to come in?”

Daryl thought about what Rick’s mother must be like. Kind, that was a given. Probably just as smiley as her son. She’d offer Daryl something to drink, would ask him about school, would make some nice comment about how smart he was if he mentioned his grades. 

“I’ll wait out here,” he said.

“All right. Be right back.” Rick gave Daryl a look like he thought Daryl might take off running the second he turned his back.

Honestly the thought had occurred to Daryl, but he was fairly sure Rick would just chase after him, so he stayed put until Rick came back outside holding a shopping list. Looks like he hadn’t been making up a story, after all.

They didn’t talk the whole way. Daryl had never been more relieved in his life. Maybe someone was finally answering his prayers, or maybe Rick could sense how drained he was. It was only when they reached Daryl’s street that Rick finally spoke.

“This is about to sound really dumb but…I’m glad we’ve become friends,” Rick said. “I feel like you definitely make my life more interesting.”

“Thanks, I think,” Daryl responded.

They stopped in front of the walkway that led up to Daryl’s porch and both lingered for a second, neither sure of a proper way to part ways.

Finally Rick said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” and started to walk away.

“Rick, wait,” Daryl said, even though every instinct he had was telling him to shut up and go inside.

Rick stopped, turning. “Yeah?”

“I’m not good at this whole friend thing, but…I mean…” Daryl sighed. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t farsighted, right? But if you really want to, you can keep on sittin’ in Andrea’s seat. I don’t care.”

Rick smiled. “Okay, cool. Because I’m totally farsighted. Very, very farsighted. Sometimes I walk into trees and everything.”

“Sure,” Daryl said. “Nice one.”

Rick walked away, and Daryl could hear him chuckling to himself, and the sound made him want to smile, too. Daryl let himself into his house as quietly as he could, taking extra time to close the door without making a sound. He listened for Will’s snores, but there was nothing. Not even the sound of the TV, which was odd. Daryl couldn’t remember the last time it had been off. The television bill was the one thing Will always made sure to pay. Sometimes they went without water or power, and they certainly never had the luxuries of heat or AC, but Will always had that damn TV.

Daryl crept into the living room to find it empty. It was possible Will was in his bedroom, but that too would be unusual. The room was more of a waste of space than anything.

There was a thump from behind Daryl, making him jump for the second time that day. Most people might have instantly turned to face whatever the noise had been, but Daryl had a hunter’s instinct. He dove forward, grabbing the table lamp off of the end table by Will’s chair, and then whirled around, brandishing it high above his head.

Merle stood in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed, not in the least bit afraid. “Good to see ya too, baby brother.”

“Merle, what the hell? Are you purposely tryin’ to scare the shit out of me?”

“It ain’t my fault you’ve grown up to be such a fuckin’ pussy,” Merle said. “Now will you put the goddamn lamp down already? That thing’s cheap as holy hell. Who do you think you could hurt with it?”

“I haven’t seen you for over a week,” Daryl accused, setting the lamp back on the table.

Merle shrugged. “I was busy.” He pulled a wad of crumpled cash out of his pocket and passed it to Daryl. “Tell dear ole father that that there is four hundred bucks.”

“This is five,” Daryl said, straightening the bills.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna tell Will that it’s four hundred and keep a hundred for yourself,” Merle said. “You think I don’t know how that dirt-bag blows all the money I bring? I mean, look at you. You’re practically skin ‘n bones.”

“I can’t. If Dad finds this on me, you know how he’ll react.”

“So hide it. Keep it in your locker at school,” Merle said. “For Christ’s sake, a ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

“Fuck you,” Daryl said, throwing the money back at Merle. It fluttered to the ground between them. “I get that you think you’re bein’ the hero here, but it’s too little too late.”

Merle made no move to pick up the cash. “And what the fuck’s that mean?”

“It means that you can stop by every couple weeks or so with a little money, but that doesn’t mean you’re actually here for me!” Daryl shouted. “Did you know that today I tried ice cream for the first time in my life?” He laughed coldly. “Do you know how fuckin’ sad that is? Where are you while I’m here, stuck with Dad, alone?”

“No one said you couldn’t come with me,” Merle snarled, stepping forward.

Daryl stepped up as well. If Merle wanted a fight, he’d get one. Daryl could take a punch. “Dad would call the cops and you know it.” It was the truth. And Will would do it not even because he actually wanted Daryl back, but instead to prove that he was still the one in charge. “I’m not eighteen for another three months.”

Merle took a step back, shaking his head. “None of this is my fuckin’ fault. None of it.” He bent down and collected the money, forcing it into Daryl’s hand. “If you give Will all five hundred I’m gonna kick your ass, baby brother.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Daryl asked, glancing at Will’s empty chair.

“He said he was goin’ out to buy some more beer but that was a few hours ago.”

They both knew what that meant. Will must have driven outside of town to pick up a hooker somewhere. Usually he’d get a hotel, spend the night, and Daryl absolutely did not have a problem with that. He set the five hundred dollars down on the end table and started to walk past Merle. But then he stopped, muttered under his breath, and peeled a single hundred dollar bill off of the thin stack. Merle nodded at him in approval which was more than a little annoying, but at least he’d be able to pay Rick back now.

“Good thing Will is gone, too,” Merle commented, “or else he might have seen whatever the hell that was outside.”

Daryl snapped to attention. “What are you talking about?”

“With that dude who walked you home like the proper little gentleman. What else would I be talkin’ ‘bout?” Merle looked positively wicked, wearing a shark’s grin. “Oh-oh, you two were talkin’ something fierce, too, by the looks of it. You seemed ready to kiss each other good night.”

“What? We wouldn’t have—what are you—I—fuck off,” Daryl stuttered. He felt light-headed. Him? Kissing Rick? He had never even thought of it, but now that Merle had put that idea out there, he could barely keep it out of his head. His brain kept racing to complete the image but he wouldn’t let it, pushing the thought away, terrified of what might happen if he let himself fully picture it.

Merle smirked, looking like he felt sorry for Daryl. “I was just givin’ you a hard time there, but you got very defensive. Interesting is all I’m gonna say and leave it at that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower.” Merle sauntered off down the hall and into the house’s only bathroom.

“Fuck off,” Daryl repeated lamely. It was the best he could come up with.

“I heard you the first time, baby brother,” Merle replied. He stuck his head out of the bathroom. “Oh, and have you seen my cigarettes? I swear I had a pack stashed under my bed.”

“Nope.” Daryl brushed past Merle and closed himself in his room, but he wasn’t quick enough, and the bad thoughts followed him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really hate ice cream so if I did a terrible job describing it, I’m sorry. Are there any other ice cream haters out there? Everyone always thinks I’m weird! But I think milk tastes like vomit and that’s all I taste when I eat it. Frozen yogurt is good, though!
> 
> P.S. I promise I haven’t forgotten about Carol! She will definitely be in the next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Daryl tutors Beth, he is forced to realize something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for how long it took me to update. I was going through kind of a hard time and I couldn't bring myself to write. And then on top of that the season 7 premiere of twd was traumatizing as holy hell so I needed time to mourn the death of my favorite character :( I actually haven't watched any other episodes since the premiere. Is the show still good??? Anyway, this chapter is extra long since you had to wait so long. I hope you like it!

When Rick got home from the store that night with groceries, he was feeling pretty good. It seemed like the stress that had clung to him like a second skin these past few weeks had begun to shed away. He finally had this whole Lori thing sorted out, and since meeting Daryl, he felt a lot of happier. He supposed that was kind of weird--he hardly knew the guy, after all--but he was good company.

The smell of something cooking commanded Rick’s attention, and he followed the sound of clattering pots and pans into the kitchen. His mother was stooped over the oven, peering inside, but she closed it when she heard Rick enter.

“You're back,” she said, straightening up and tucking a strand of long, wavy light brown hair behind an ear. “I’m making chicken.” His mother was a short woman, allowing Rick to easily tower over her.

Rick didn’t look much like his mom. He had always looked like a younger version of his father, everyone had said so. Sometimes he wondered if it was hard for his mother. They didn’t really talk about it anymore. They still talked about his dad, of course, but they never mentioned the _absence_ of him. At first, maybe a month after he was gone, one of them would say something like, “He would’ve loved this,” and the other would say, “Yeah,” and then a silence that was heavy yet empty all at once would fall. But then one day, maybe all at once or maybe a little at a time, Rick couldn't quite remember, he and his mom woke up and decided to try to be happy again. 

And they were. The pain would always be there, but it had found a way to hide itself so that if you didn’t look for it, you could almost pretend it didn’t exist.

“Great,” Rick replied. He leaned back against the kitchen counter absentmindedly, still distracted by the way today had turned out. He had gotten Daryl to smile. Okay, so maybe that had been the ice cream. And that had been Maggie’s idea to begin with. But Rick just couldn’t get over the fact that he had been there to witness it.

“Great?” his mother repeated. “Just the other day you were sayin’ we eat chicken too often.” She regarded Rick carefully, a knowing expression overtaking her face. “You’re in a good mood. Were you with Lori earlier?”

“What?” Rick realized he had been smiling without meaning to and he quickly replaced the goofy grin with a frown, which only seemed to amuse his mother more. “Mom, I went to the movies with some friends, like I told you I was this mornin’.”

She regarded him innocently. “Okay, of course, silly me. It’s just...you know you can tell me if you were, right?”

“I can reassure you that I definitely was not.” 

“I know you’re eighteen. So it’s okay if you were. Though I suppose there are probably talks we should’ve had already…”

“Oh my God.” Rick stood and started backing away towards the kitchen’s exit. “I’m going to pretend that we never started to have this conversation.” 

“All I’m sayin’ is, I want grandchildren, but I don’t want grandchildren yet--”

“I’m not hearin’ any of this!” Rick shouted, turning on his heel and escaping to the safety of his bedroom, and even there he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

The next morning, Wednesday, Rick pulled up at the school with Shane to find Andrea waiting in his usual parking spot. She moved to the side so he could park the truck. Shane was already taking off his seatbelt, leaning back and looking proud of himself.

“Didn’t I tell you she’d take me back?” he grinned.

Rick eyed the brightly wrapped present box that was in Andrea’s hands, entirely variant from the vexed expression she wore, and he wasn’t so sure. Wearily, he got out of the car with Shane.

“What’s up, babe?” Shane asked, walking towards Andrea with arms out wide.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Shane, we aren’t dating anymore,” Andrea said flatly.

Slowly, Shane lowered his arms.

“Here. Merry Christmas,” she said, voice heavy with sarcasm as she shoved the present into Shane’s hands.

“What the hell is this?”

“You should know what it is, Rick should have told you all about it.”

All eyes turned towards Rick and, confused out of his damn mind, he racked his brain to figure out what the hell Andrea was talking about. And then he remembered what she had said to him in class yesterday. 

“So wait,” Rick said slowly. “You were being serious?”

“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Shane demanded. 

“Uh, yeah, man,” Rick said. He paused, trying to contain his laughter. He supposed he should probably be feeling bad about this, but he hardly saw how Shane and Andrea’s relationship drama was his fault, and honestly it was hard to take Shane’s expression of pure desperation in the current situation seriously. “I’m pretty sure she burned your letterman jacket and put it into a box.”

“She did what?” Shane shrieked, his voice reaching new, slightly terrifying decimals. “Andrea, what the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted. “You mean to tell me you went to the fuckin’ store to buy wrapping paper and a goddamned present bow just so you could wrap the charred remains of my letterman jacket for me? My prized possession?” 

Andrea shrugged. She looked bored near to death, completely unaffected by Shane’s wounded air. “Your prized possession has been on my bedroom floor for over two weeks now.”

“Yeah, but baby, c’mon. I figured I’d just get it when I came to pick you up for homecoming,” Shane said. He was kind of laughing, but just barely, like he thought this was all some big joke.

Andrea’s eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline. “What makes you think I was going to go to homecoming with you?”

“Well, who the hell else would ask you?”

Andrea smiled sweetly. “You enjoy that jacket, Shane. With all of the ego you managed to squeeze into that thing, maybe if you sprinkle the ashes onto some soil it might help your plants grow or something.” And with a swish of her short blonde ponytail, she walked off towards the school building.

Shane immediately turned on Rick, who was pressing his lips together tightly in a last ditch attempt to keep from laughing. “Don’t fucking say anything.” 

“I’m not, I’m not,” Rick said, clearing his throat.

“I mean, you don’t really think the chick burned my actual jacket, do you? She could have burned anything and put it in here, right?” Shane shook the present box, not appearing very convinced himself.

“Right, right,” Rick agreed. His face was starting to hurt from the splitting smile he was holding in.

“Man, whatever. I need to go talk to Andrea,” Shane grumbled, hurrying off.

Rick watched him leave, blowing out a breath. He was actually sort of relieved to see Shane go, and silently he thanked Andrea for being the kind of person who burned other people's possessions before wrapping them and giving them back to said person as a gift. Otherwise, Rick knew he would probably still be with Shane, standing with him and a group of his football friends like he did almost every morning before school, laughing but not really adding anything to the conversation. Shane was a brother to Rick, and he’d always be a brother to Rick, but lately Rick found that it was becoming harder to ignore the realization that he was the sidekick in Shane Walsh’s life.

“What was that all about?”

Rick turned around to find Lori walking up behind him. 

“Long story,” he said. “Hey, I see you found your next clue.”

She was holding a pair of shoelaces, which had been what Rick had left at the store where Lori’s weird chocolate-banana chapstick was sold. He had given them to the store clerk last night, asking the dude if he could have whoever was working the next morning hold them for a Lori Carter. The guy had looked at Rick like he was insane, and Rick supposed that leaving shoelaces for a girl probably did look pretty lame, but there was a story behind them. 

When they had gone on their first real date to Morgan’s of all places--looking back, taking your date to your place of employment probably wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world--Rick had been so nervous he hadn’t bothered to make sure his shoes were tied, and he had tripped walking through the door, completely faceplanting. Lori had been sitting inside and had seen the entire thing, and she still teased Rick for it to this day. Tomorrow Lori would show up at Morgan’s, and Rick was still trying to work out what the next clue he left should be. Something that would lead her to the football field where they had first met at Shane’s game, but it wasn’t like he had any mementos from that night. He was an eighteen year old boy; he hadn’t exactly saved his game ticket for his nonexistent scrapbook. 

He’d have to ask Daryl for advice. The guy had come up with the scavenger hunt idea in all of five seconds; surely he could be of more help. Rick had to wonder once again why Daryl seemed so adamant on the fact that he’d never be able to find someone to go to homecoming with. Rick would have to try to set him up with someone. He went over all the single girls he knew, but there weren’t many. There was Andrea--sort of--but somehow the only thing Rick could see her giving Daryl was a massive headache. Honestly he couldn’t really see Daryl with any girl in the school. 

Lori was saying something and Rick realized he had blanked her out entirely. She looked at him expectantly.

“Um...yes?” Rick said uncertainly.

Apparently it was the right answer, because Lori jumped up and down happily. “Great! Red it is then.”

Rick thanked whatever forces may be for lucking out just then. She must have been talking about what color they should wear to the dance next Friday. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for a red tie. He spotted Daryl walking towards him from behind Lori and smiled despite himself. Lori smiled back, but then noticed Rick wasn’t looking at her. She turned to watch Daryl approach.

When Daryl reached them, he looked from in between Rick and Lori uncertainly, not saying a word. Rick was quiet himself, trying to make sense of this scene. He had never pictured Lori and Daryl actually meeting. They both meant such different things to him that it was as if they occupied completely different planes of existence, and only now were these contrasting worlds crashing up to meet one another, and it was utterly bizarre. 

Lori was the one to finally break the silence. “I’m Lori,” she said. “Do you...need somethin’?” 

Something in the way she spoke grated at Rick. She didn’t say it rudely, but she hadn’t sounded happy to see Daryl, either. Instead she sounded personally offended that a Dixon of all people would come invade her personal space. Because of course she knew who Daryl was. Everyone did.

Daryl glowered back at Lori and Rick quickly swooped in. “Daryl, hey. What’s up?”

Daryl thankfully turned his attention to Rick, the hard line of his mouth softening slightly. “I have the money. That I owe ya.”

Rick had to think for a moment before figuring out what Daryl was talking about since he had never actually expected for Daryl to pay him back. Not because he thought Daryl couldn’t afford it, but only because the free breakfast and the movies had been no big deal. Rick had wanted to do it.

“You know Daryl?” Lori asked, as if Daryl weren’t standing right there in front of her.

Rick had never wanted Lori to leave more than he did in that moment. “Yeah, we’re friends,” he said. He could already sense Lori’s next question-- _since when?_ \--so he added, “We have a class together and went to the movies yesterday.”

“The movies? Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve come.” She said it nonchalantly, but Rick could tell she was hurt, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

“It wasn’t exactly a date thing, Lori,” he said. “Glenn was there, too.” He decided to leave out the part about how Maggie had also been invited, and that for Glenn it had been a “date thing” as Rick had so beautifully put it.

“Right. Well I guess I’ll talk you later then, Rick. I just wanted to tell you that I found the stupid shoelaces.” Lori walked away before Rick could stop her, though honestly he wasn’t sure he would have if given the chance.

Daryl shifted from foot to foot before mumbling, “Sorry if I...you know, made things weird.”

“You didn’t,” Rick immediately said. “So what were you saying? About payin’ me back?”

“I got some money, sooo…”

You could cut the tension with a knife. Rick wasn’t sure what had happened. He and Daryl had gotten closer yesterday, hadn’t they? 

“I thought you didn’t have a job. You didn’t rob a bank on me, did ya?” Rick had been going for a joke, hoping to help dissipate the current awkwardness hanging over them like an unwanted fog, but Daryl only frowned and pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket, turning it over like it might speak and give him the answers.

“Of course not,” Daryl finally said. 

“I know, I know. Look, Daryl, I get that you aren’t one for handouts but you really don’t have to--”

“I need to,” Daryl insisted.

“I’m tellin’ you, it’s okay--”

“I need to,” Daryl repeated firmly.

Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair. Whatever Daryl’s reasoning was, it made sense to himself, and Rick knew that was going to have to be good enough for him. “All right. Well between the breakfast and the movie ticket I figure that’s about fifteen dollars. And I can make sure Glenn gets the money for the movies.”

Daryl nodded and Rick took that as a thank you. He handed Rick the hundred dollar bill and Rick took out his own wallet, counted out the change, and gave it to Daryl. The bell starting school sounded and Rick half expected Daryl to take off running ahead of him. But instead he found the other boy walking at his side as they headed into the building. Neither of them spoke until they had entered the high school.

“So that was Lori, huh?” Daryl asked as they walked down the hall.

The hallway was crowded with students digging through lockers and trying to get to their first periods, most of whom shot strange looks Rick’s way as they passed. Considering this didn’t normally happen to him when he walked through the school, it must have been because he was with Daryl. Rick met each and every person’s eyes he walked by, letting them know that he was perfectly aware of their stares. Daryl, in turn, didn’t seem to even notice, which Rick didn’t think was fair. Daryl shouldn’t have to get used to it.

They passed Rick’s classroom, but he didn’t want to say anything so he kept walking with Daryl. “Yeah. Uh, sorry if Lori was kinda hostile. She’s not normally like that.”

“What’s she normally like then?”

Rick blinked, taken by surprise. He was ashamed to admit that he had to think about one. What was Lori like? Come to think of it, they never really seemed to talk about anything important. And he could say she was funny, but when was the last time she had actually made him laugh? For real, not the sort of laugh one conjures up when the other tells a cheesy joke and you know they’re trying for that humor. He could say she was nice, but wasn’t that what people said about acquaintances when they were too, well, nice to say, “I don’t know”?

Rick knew he had hesitated for too long so he said, “Lori is Lori. And that’s pretty awesome in itself.” Which was barely better than just calling her nice, but it was something at least. Afraid of what Daryl might have to say to his merely passable description of his girlfriend, Rick continued speaking. “Hey, I actually have a favor to ask of you. I need tomorrow’s clue to lead Lori to the football field, which is where I’m gonna ask her to the dance. But I don’t--”

“Aren’t there a shit ton of dandelions out there?” Daryl pointed out. “You could maybe give her one. But I dunno. That’s probably dumb. Sorry. It’s the best I’ve got.”

“No, no, no.” Rick stopped in the middle of the hall, causing Daryl to stop as well. Kids gave them annoyed glances as they streamed around them. “That’s actually a fuckin’ brilliant idea. Because Lori is big on the whole wishin’ on dandelions thing. Whenever she sees one she has to pick it. And whenever I go to games, I always see her blow on one before she cheers. Like a good luck charm or something. I bet if I got her a big bunch of them, it’d lead her straight to the football field.”

“Oh. Well, great.” Daryl started to walk around Rick.

Rick quickly stepped in front of him. “Do you want to meet me out there after school today? I could use the help.” Though in reality, how much help could one really need to pick a few dandelions? Rick wasn’t sure why he had asked Daryl to come; the words had sort of fallen from his mouth on their own, and now they were out there and he felt stupid for them. Why would Daryl want to spend his time after school picking weeds for Rick’s girlfriend?

To Rick’s surprise, Daryl immediately said, “Sure.” He frowned. “It’ll have to be after I’m done meetin’ with Beth, though.”

Rick had almost forgotten that Daryl was tutoring her. “Did you guys really plan that out?” he asked, thinking back to how confused Daryl had been yesterday when Maggie had started questioning him on the way to the movies.

“Of course,” Daryl said, and even though he spoke nonchalantly, his face slightly shifted, hardening in on itself. 

Now Rick knew what Daryl looked like when he lied. But Rick didn’t really mind. He knew Daryl was only trying to keep Beth from getting in trouble with her sister.

“You’re a good person,” Rick said. Maybe that was kind of a weird thing to just randomly say to someone, but Rick suspected Daryl didn’t hear it often enough, so he didn’t care. He reached out and gripped Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl started to take a step back, but then stopped and just stood there, hair hanging over his eyes. “And a good friend.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl said softly.

Suddenly Rick wasn’t sure how long he had let his hand rest on Daryl’s shoulder. Seconds? Minutes? Had it been too long? Was he making things weird? He let his hand drop and went to lean back against the locker bank behind him, but he was standing further away from them than he had thought, and instead only succeeded in stumbling back a couple steps. Daryl’s expression twitched slightly and Rick smiled, deciding to pretend that that unfortunate moment had not just happened.

“Well,” Rick said, “thanks. Again. For, you know, all the help you’ve been lately with this homecoming thing. And for agreein’ to help me out later today.”

“It’s like you could almost say I was _awesome_ ,” Daryl replied.

Rick winced at the dig--whether it was towards him or Lori, he couldn’t tell--but he couldn’t deny it. Daryl was pretty awesome, and at the moment Rick would much rather spend time with him than with Lori. But Rick knew he was going to have to talk to Lori sooner or later today, and probably apologize to her for whatever it was she thought he had done this time.

Something over Rick’s shoulder seemed to catch Daryl’s attention, and Rick turned to see a girl standing several feet back across the hallway, arms crossed. She appeared to be completely engrossed by her cell phone, but by the way Daryl was now staring at her, Rick could tell he knew her. Rick had had a few classes with her in the past--what was her name again? Carol, right?

“Do you like her?” Rick asked.

“What?” Daryl’s head snapped back to face Rick so quickly, Rick was sure he heard it.

“Why don’t you ask her to the dance?” Rick suggested. Carol was pretty, with short coppery brown hair and wide blue eyes. 

“Dude, no. That’s Carol.”

“I know that’s Carol. Is there something wrong with her?”

“No, I mean we’re friends. I’ve known her for about a year. She’s more like a sister to me,” Daryl explained. 

“Oh. Cool.” Rick hated that this news left him feeling so blindsided. Of course Daryl had other people to talk to; Rick couldn’t very well be his entire world. 

Rick waited for Daryl to offer to introduce them, but he didn’t. And a look back at Carol confirmed that she was still fiddling with her phone, and now that Rick knew she and Daryl knew one another, he was left with the distinct feeling that something was being pulled over on him. Why wasn’t she coming over to say hi? There was no way she didn’t see them.

“I’ll see you sixth period,” Daryl finally spoke up.

“Okay.” Rick nodded and started for his first period, hoping Daryl wouldn’t notice he was going back the way they had come.

***

“What is wrong with you?” Daryl stood in front of Carol, more than a little annoyed.

He had quickly noticed her standing across the hall when he had been talking to Rick. She had been grinning at him from ear to ear, a sight that was pretty alarming. Carol allowing herself to genuinely honest-to-God smile was probably even rarer than Daryl. She smiled all the time, sure, but normally only when it benefit her, like when she was talking her way out of assignments, using the gesture like a weapon. As soon as Rick had looked over, Carol had taken out her cell phone, but Daryl could tell she had only been pretending that she hadn’t been watching them.

“Nothing’s wrong, pookie,” she smirked.

Daryl grimaced at the pet name, but decided that arguing over it wasn’t worth the mental energy. “You’re in an awful good mood,” he grumbled.

“What? I’m not allowed to be happy?”

Daryl tried to remember the last time he had seen Carol this smiley. “Not for as long as I’ve known you,” he said. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s up or not?”

“I was looking for you just to see how you were, but I hung back when I saw you were talking to someone,” Carol said, and there was that huge, unabashed grin again. “Rick Grimes, huh? He’s cute.”

“If you think he’s so good-lookin’, you could’ve just come over and said hi. He saw you just hoverin’ over here. He probably thinks that me, and everyone associated with me, are complete freaks.”

“Speak for yourself,” Carol said with a roll of her eyes. “And don’t be so melodramatic, Daryl. That boy does not think you’re a freak. Trust me. I could tell just by the expression on his face when he looked over at me. He looked...perplexed. Worried, even.”

Daryl was growing more and more exasperated. He loved Carol, he really did, but there were few things he wanted to talk about less with her than Rick. He scarcely let himself think about Rick, let alone speak of him out loud. 

Because Rick Grimes was something good. One shining thing in the shit storm that was Daryl’s life. And Daryl was sure that if he talked about it, Rick would cease to exist, go up like smoke and disappear the second the universe realized that Rick was far too good for Daryl, and that something had gone cosmically grand-fucking-wrong when it decided to send Rick his way.

“Why the hell would he be worried? He was tryin’ to get me to ask you to the dance.”

Carol snorted at that one. “I’m afraid you aren’t my type, Daryl. And something tells me I’m not yours, either.”

“Okay, awesome.” Daryl grimaced. Everything was just fucking awesome, wasn’t it? He wasn’t mad at Carol, not really. He hardly had a reason to be. He was just more uncomfortable than he had ever been in his life, and he sort of felt like the hall was getting smaller and smaller, readying to constrict around him and trap him in place. He needed them to get off of this topic now, before he started thinking about any of it too hard.

“All righty. Well I guess you had better go to class. You wouldn’t want another detention.” Carol had started to walk away, but Daryl could hear the smile still in her voice.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. All day Daryl stressed whether or not he had somehow already screwed up things between him and Rick--Rick had gotten strange on him before walking away that morning--but when it was finally time for sixth period, Rick acted as if nothing had even happened. Because nothing had, right? 

Rick sat next to Daryl again, and Andrea stewed in her new desk up front. She never had struck Daryl as a particularly joyful person, but she seemed especially wronged today. He briefly wondered if this had something to do with the whole switching desks thing before Mr. Baker interrupted his thoughts, slapping a paper covered in tiny print down in front of him.

“Pop quiz time,” the teacher announced much to the dismay of the class.

The quiz kept Daryl and Rick from talking for most of the period. Daryl finished extra early as usual, but he carefully went over all the words he had scrawled across the page like he always did, darkening the graphite, not wanting to be the first to hand in the paper. It was only when the bell ending class rang that Daryl dropped his quiz off on Mr. Baker’s desk. 

“So I’ll meet you at the football field in half an hour?” Rick asked, dropping his own quiz paper on top of Daryl’s.

“Sounds good,” Daryl said. He didn’t even know why he had agreed to help Rick. He felt bad saying he didn’t like Lori when he hardly even knew her, but it was fairly evident she did not in fact like him, not that that wasn't something Daryl was used to.

But when Rick looked up and smiled at Daryl, Daryl remembered why he had said yes. It was hard to say no to Rick. And Daryl hated that he felt that. He hated how on edge he was whenever he was around Rick, how much he cared, how he couldn’t decide whether to stay and talk to him or turn and run away, hated how the feeling exhilarated him. 

He hated that he was realizing he was royally fucked.

The two of them walked out of the classroom together, Daryl not saying anything, and Rick not saying anything either, probably because he was wondering why Daryl wasn’t saying anything, and Daryl’s heart was beating weirdly fast and he wondered if he might be experiencing some kind of heart attack.

And then Beth stepped out in front of him, scaring the absolute shit out of him. “Daryl, hey,” she greeted. She glanced over at Rick. “Rick.”

“Um, hi,” Rick replied, sounding startled as well.

“Well, are you ready for this?” Beth asked, turning back to Daryl and raising a large two inch binder with her name written across it. “Maggie literally made me a homework binder. It’s organized and color coded and everything else fun.”

“How did you know where my sixth period was?” Daryl asked. He had to remind himself to breathe. He felt like he had been thinking so loudly about Rick that everyone around him must have heard it.

“I’m psychic,” Beth said, not helping. When Daryl didn’t laugh, she said, “I saw you walk in here earlier on the way to my own class. So should we go to the library?”

“Okay…” Daryl trailed off, turning to face Rick. He paused, carefully going over his options for departure. “So, bye,” he said. Genius.

Beth looked Rick up and down, smirking. Daryl was starting to think that might just be her regular smile.

“Okay,” Rick said. And then, “Bye, I mean.”

“Yeah, bye, Rick,” she said before skipping off towards the school library.

Daryl lingered for a second longer before going after her.

He had definitely never tutored anyone before, so he wasn’t really sure what he was expected to do. The few times tutoring Beth had even crossed his mind, he had always sort of pictured himself standing in front of an old time-y chalkboard, gesturing feverishly to rows of math problems or something. Fortunately all tutoring her ended up entailing was sitting at a table in the school library with Beth, watching her go through page after page of homework and answering her whenever she pointed to a problem and asked, “What does this mean?” 

She actually knew how to do a lot of the work herself, the problem was that there was a whole lot of it and Daryl figured she’d probably never actually do it if she wasn’t being forced to sit through this “tutoring session.”

“Okay, I think I’m done for today.” Beth closed the binder and pushed it aside, blowing blonde bangs out of her face. She had hardly made a dent in the binder, but Daryl supposed three weeks’ worth of homework was going to take some time, plus it had nearly been half an hour already anyway and Rick would be waiting. “Don’t worry, I’ll do some at home, too. I made sure to work on the pages I needed help with here. I know you don’t really wanna be doin’ this.”

“This ain’t so bad,” Daryl admitted.

It wasn’t even like helping out Beth was what he had been opposed with to begin with; it was Mrs. Bloom’s pity he had had a problem with. Besides, what else did he really have to be doing? His dad had still been gone when he left for school that morning, but he was probably home by now, which made _home_ the last place Daryl wanted to be. Merle had been gone, too. Daryl wondered if his brother would be back later tonight, or if he was about to disappear for another week.

Beth started gathering up her completed work, and the sleeve to the sweater she was wearing pushed upwards on her arm ever so slightly. Daryl looked away immediately, but he could still see it, as if the image were burned into his brain by the horror of it--a raised and puckered scar, prominent and pink against her pale skin.

Beth quickly adjusted her sleeve, but it was obvious Daryl had seen it. He hoped that maybe if he said nothing she’d do the same and leave, but instead she laughed, and the sound was so preposterously convincing that in that moment one could wonder if Beth Greene had ever been truly happy.

“So you’re officially the first person outside of my family to find out why I missed school for three weeks. Congratulations,” she said. “Well...when anyone asked where I’d been, I’ve told them the truth--that I tried to kill myself. Of course, no one takes me seriously. The truth seems to be what people want to believe least.”

“It’s none of my business,” Daryl said. And it wasn’t. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to be her shoulder to cry on, didn’t want to have to lie that he understood. In fact, he found himself almost angry at her, this pretty blonde girl who lived on a farm with ponies and who was friends with all the right people, and who probably got whatever the fuck her precious heart desired. Compared to her’s, Daryl’s life was a goddamn tragedy. 

He had thought of suicide before. Of course he had. The thought had crossed his mind before he could stop it: _I wish I were dead._ But he would never let it go further. He refused to. So how dare Beth come along and think her life could be any worse? 

“You can ask why,” Beth said. “Or say something. Literally anything. You just sitting there silently brooding is sort of freakin’ me out.”

“I...Did it hurt?” For some reason that was the first question that popped into Daryl’s head.

“It didn’t feel nice. But that’s kinda the point. It feels like…you finally have some kind of power over it all. Like you’re in the middle of an ocean, in a storm, drownin’ over and over again but not dyin’, and that pain is the only thing there that can ground you.” Beth stopped talking, and Daryl thought she might be done, but then she suddenly said, a little louder, “And I know what you’re thinkin’. Look at the weak little girl--how could she have possibly made it this far? But I am not weak. I might have had to figure it out differently than other people, but I’m strong, and now I know it.”

Daryl mulled it over. He still didn’t really understand, but he supposed he probably never would. This was something that only Beth would ever be able to understand, that only Beth would be able to face, and so far she did seem to be facing it.

“Did you want to die?” he asked.

“I thought I did. I mean, I didn’t wanna live, and dyin’ seemed a lot easier, for me and for everyone else concerned, or at least that’s what I had worked out in my mind. But then I cut a little deeper and I wouldn’t stop bleedin’ and I realized I was absolutely terrified of death. So I yelled for Maggie and she got our daddy and he stitched me up himself so that I wouldn’t have to go to any hospital. I just got the stitches out last week.” Beth smiled, but it was a sad smile, the sort of smile you use when you have nothing left in you. “And I just made things a whole lot fucking worse.”

“You learned you wanted to live,” Daryl said. “That’s somethin’.”

Beth nodded. “That’s somethin’,” she agreed. “Anyway, I’ve been talking to a professional and I’m better now. Not fixed, but better. I bet ya still think I’m real dumb, huh?”

“I’m comin’ around,” Daryl said with a shrug.

“Cool. I’m comin’ around for you too. I was a little doubtful when Mrs. Bloom said you were some kind of boy genius, but you’ve proven me wrong. Thanks for the homework help, Mr. Dixon.” Beth collected her things and stood, seeming ready to leave, but instead she turned back to Daryl. “So what’s the deal with you and Rick?”

If Daryl had been drinking something, he probably would’ve spit-take. “What do ya mean?”

“I mean you two are weird to each other. Like...all stare-y weird. It was like you were tryin’ to communicate telepathically while simultaneously losing all knowledge of the English language. You should’ve heard the words comin’ out of your mouths. ‘So bye.’ ‘Okay. Wait, I mean, bye.’ I mean, don’t get me wrong, Rick’s cute...but I’m just surprised is all what with the crowd he hangs around with. And doesn’t he have a girlfriend--”

Daryl stood up so fast the chair screeched across the floor, sending several looks his way. “Stop talking. Please, please just stop talkin’.”

Beth frowned. “Are you...not out?”

“I’m not--I’m not anything. I can’t--I mean...oh my God. I can’t process anything you’re saying right now I’m just gonna leave.” And Daryl did just that.

Unfortunately, Beth followed him. “So I’ll take that as a no. But you know it’s all right to like a person, right?”

“No. No it’s not all right,” Daryl snapped, trying to walk ahead of Beth as he hurried down the hall, but the girl was fast. “Nothin’ about my life is fucking all right.” They exited the school and he whirled on her. “I get that the worst thing about your perfect little life is that your mommy died, but guess what? Mine died too, and my worst nightmare is still walkin’, and breathin’, and beatin’ the living shit out of me. So save me the words of wisdom.”

His words had been designed to hurt her, to make her cry, anything to get her to leave. But Beth didn’t even flinch. “Are you done?” she asked in a low, calm voice that made him feel so infuriatingly inferior he could hardly stand himself. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m done,” he grumbled.

“Good. Because you deserve to be happy, Daryl. And everywhere anyone goes, everyone else is going to be there trying to stop you from being happy. You’d think that we’d all just realize that all any of us want is to be happy, and that we’d all work together and just do it. But people tend to suck that way, so you’re gonna have to do a lot of it yourself. And I’m not sayin’ that some people don’t have it easier than you, because I’m sure loads of folks do. But maybe that’s what makes it all worth fighting for in the end.”

“It must be nice to be able to live in this wonderful fairytale land,” Daryl said, “but I can’t afford to.” He turned and walked away, and this time Beth didn’t follow.

“Said the boy defensively!” she shouted at his back. 

Daryl kept on walking.

***

When Rick saw Daryl approaching, he stood up from where he was sitting on the bleachers in the football field, smiling. But it became immediately apparent something was wrong. He didn’t look happy, but that wasn’t exactly unusual. The thing was, he didn’t look sad either. He just looked….empty. Nonexistent.

“Are you okay?” Rick asked. “Did something happen with Beth?”

“No. I’m fine.” His expression hardened, mouth becoming a sharp line. A lie.

“Are you sure? Because you can always talk to me or--”

“So you probably could have already done this without me.” Daryl spoke over Rick, his voice forceful and too loud. “Now that I think of it, you don’t even really need two people for this. But now that I’m here I guess we had better start pickin’ dandelions.”

Rick’s head was spinning. He couldn’t fathom what could have possibly changed in the last thirty minutes. But something told him that if he pushed it, Daryl would leave. And he wanted Daryl there, so he said nothing. 

***

Daryl could add Beth Greene to the list of things he hated. He hated her, oh God, he hated her, hated that she couldn’t keep her stupid mouth shut. Because she had opened up something inside of him, and now he couldn’t keep the thoughts out of his head, couldn’t cut them out fast enough. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he liked to be around Rick, about how much he just plain liked Rick, probably more than he should, more than Rick would care to know.

The only solution he had was to be as cold to Rick as possible. Rick tried to make smalltalk but Daryl answered with clipped, one word responses. Each word hurt, but with each word it became harder and harder to go back, but not exactly easier to keep going on, either.

 _Is everything I touch ruined?_ Daryl wanted to shout. 

He kept on picking dandelions, which turned out to be harder than expected; anytime he started to get a sizeable bouquet of them, they’d rub off on one another, their seeds blowing away. But he kept gathering them because what else was there to do, and with each dandelion he picked, he let a thought he had held at bay flood in.

_I like spending time with him._

_He’s too good for me._

_He’s the best thing._

_He’s the only thing._

_He really is gorgeous, isn’t he?_

Daryl realized he had stopped moving, and that he was standing perfectly still at the edge of the football field, right beside the end zone, holding a stupid bouquet of dandelions, and he felt something hot and wet streaking its way down his cheeks. 

Rick stopped moving as well for a second. But only for a second. He walked over to Daryl and stood in front of him, holding his own ridiculous dandelion bouquet. He just stood there and didn’t say anything, and Daryl was so incredibly grateful for that.

Beth had said he deserved to be happy. And why couldn’t she be right? Why, for once, could Daryl not have the _something good_ that everyone was always talking about?

“I think…” Daryl had to stop, to wet his lips. “I like you,” he breathed.

Rick still said nothing, did nothing. And Daryl remembered what Beth had said, about how he was probably going to have to do it himself. So he stepped forward, and he didn’t think, and he pressed his lips against Rick’s, and he drowned, drowned, drowned in it all.

If before he had thought he was having heart attack, then now he was going into full-blown cardiac arrest.

The kiss was small, chaste, full of doubt and second guess--Daryl had never kissed anyone before. But it was only that way at first. Suddenly Rick stepped closer, deepening the kiss, parting his lips, and it was all tongue, teeth, lips, and warmth, and he didn’t taste like anything Daryl had ever tasted before, no, he tasted like _Rick_ , he tasted exactly the way Daryl had thought he would. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tell where he ended and Rick began, and he couldn’t find it in him to care. It hurt so bad, it hurt so good, to know that he had somehow lived without this, that he could have had this all along.

And then Rick pulled away. Daryl wanted to smile, but Rick looked so far away, gone, gone, gone, and Daryl had never been more _right here_ than he was in that moment, and he couldn’t figure out why Rick wasn’t there with him.

“I’m not…” Finally, Rick looked at Daryl. 

The dandelions had been smashed between them, the seeds clinging to their chests like a fungus that had sprouted through their shirts. Daryl still held the naked stems, and his hands were full, but they were full of nothing more than empty wishes.

“We should probably start over,” Rick whispered, and he dropped the dandelion stems he was holding.

In that moment Daryl realized that nothing had changed. That Rick was still going to ask Lori to the dance, that he still had nothing. Except maybe he had even less now, if it were even possible. 

Daryl bent down and started picking more dandelions with Rick. Neither of them said another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is good or not. I keep second guessing my writing. But I tried. And hopefully it isn't horrible either!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After what happened in the football field, Rick and Daryl are both struggling with their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new chapter! Also I finally caught up with The Walking Dead and even though I'm still sad, I think it's good so far. I freaking love Carl! I used to hate him, I'm not going to lie, but he's gotten so awesome. Rise, Badass Carl! But anyway...enjoy the story!

When Rick arrived to Morgan’s later that night for work, he was trying his very best not to think or feel anything at all, which was turning out to be alarmingly impossible. So instead he found his brain dancing from random thought to random thought, never allowing himself to focus too hard on one topic for too long for fear that he’d somehow find a way to connect it to…

Rick quickly put all of his concentration into trying to figure out if the older lady sitting at the counter eating waffles was wearing a wig or if her hair was really that... _solid_...looking. But then he saw the waffles sitting in front of her weren’t just any waffles, but those stupid Five Layer Waffles--really, who ordered those things?--and he had to switch to thinking about whether or not he should pay to have his truck washed or just do it himself. He walked around the counter and into the kitchen to grab his apron, not even realizing he was still clutching the dandelions until he heard Morgan, holding his habitual position at the grill, demand, “What in God’s name is that?”

For a moment, panic flared within Rick. He was sure the events of the last hour must be etched across his face, boiling through his veins and growing tendrils that must be threading their way around his bones, so much so a part of him that they had become permanently stained across his very being for anyone who looked hard enough to see. But of course Morgan was only referring to the handful of sad looking dandelions Rick was crushing inside his fist, stems mostly broken and bent. 

Rick felt incredibly stupid, staring at those dandelions. Why was he about to give this to Lori? Why was he doing any of these ritualistic, idiotic homecoming games for her? None of it had ever felt more fake than it did in that moment, an elaborate show put on for others that were putting on similar acts all of their own, all dancing around one another in elegant pirouettes made up of fake laughs and judgemental looks and the grand assurance that they were, in fact, better than the other. 

But Rick couldn’t say any of that to Morgan. The man was standing in front of Rick holding a spatula, waiting expectantly, and even though Rick knew Morgan must’ve been in high school once, it was really hard to imagine him going through any of this.

“They’re for Lori. It’s a homecoming thing,” Rick sighed, and he could hardly feel his feet beneath him. “Can you just make sure she gets them tomorrow morning?”

“You picked your girlfriend a bunch of weeds?” Morgan asked. He grinned to show he was only joking around, but Rick still felt a flash of anger.

That’s all they were. Terrible, broken, choking weeds. “Can you do it or not?” Rick snapped.

Morgan’s smile faded away and he stood there for a second, regarding Rick. Rick was usually a pretty polite guy, especially towards adults, and Morgan didn’t seem to know how to react to this change in personality. But whatever. Rick deserved a fucking break. The hashbrowns on the grill started to smoke and Morgan turned around to flip them.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” he said without looking up from the cooking potatoes. “Just leave them in my office.”

Morgan’s “office” was a tiny, windowless room probably meant to be some sort of storage room before Morgan had somehow crammed a desk and chair into the space. Rick dropped the dandelions onto the desk, right next to a framed photograph of Duane, Morgan’s actual son. Sometimes Rick pretended Morgan was his dad, but of course Morgan had a real kid. Rick had gone over to Morgan’s house a few times for dinner in the past, and Duane also often came into the restaurant. He was in middle school and a good kid.

Rick picked up a single dandelion, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. He wished so badly in that moment that his father were still alive. He thought he had been done wishing for that. He still wanted it, of course, but he no longer stayed up late aching with the thought of it, praying to whoever was listening that Philip Grimes would walk through the front door, alive and healthy, asking Rick if he wanted to go pick up Shane and head down to the shooting range like they used to before his dad got too bad to leave the hospital. That had been the worst thing about the way Rick’s father had died--he had been so sick for so long beforehand that when Rick tried to picture Philip as he had been when at his best, it was like trying to recall the remnants of a faded dream. 

His father had always given the best advice. Rick’s mom tried, but she had never really gotten Rick. He felt bad thinking things like this when he knew she’d give anything to have his dad back too, but it was the truth. Then again, maybe it was best his dad wasn’t there. He had always been a nice man, accepting of everyone, but Rick still didn’t want to know what he’d have to say about what had happened.

Rick dropped the dandelion and hurried out of Morgan’s office and back out to the front of the diner, snagging a pot of coffee to start doing refills with. He began going over a mental checklist of things left to do about the dance--get a suit, obviously. But before that, tomorrow he’d have to stop at the store to get some craft supplies or something to make some sort of sign for Lori, then show up to school early on Friday morning so he could decorate the bleachers at the football field. Shane would probably help if Rick really begged him, but he was about as artistically inclined as Rick was, so this was sure to be a fun next couple of days. 

Rick cursed as pain suddenly flared up across his right hand. He looked down to see he had spilled burning hot coffee across his hand while trying to fill a mug, also sending most of the liquid all over the floor, narrowly missing the lap of a lady sitting with her two children at a booth.

“Shit,” he muttered, much to the disapproval radiating off of the woman. “Sorry, I’ll be right back with somethin’ to clean that up,” Rick apologized. He turned to get a rag from behind the counter but found himself face to face with Morgan, who had popped up behind him without Rick even noticing.

“Rick, can I talk to you for a second?” Morgan asked. Without waiting for an answer he pushed through the front door of the diner and outside, leaving Rick the choice to either pretend he had mysteriously gone deaf in the past thirty seconds or to reluctantly follow.

The cool night air slammed into Rick when he stepped outside and he shivered, wishing he had a jacket. 

“Okay, let’s make this quick because I have Deric on the grill,” Morgan said, referring to one of the other employees who worked at the diner, “and we all know he can’t make omelets to save his life. I just wanted to know what was bothering you.”

“What do you mean?” Rick looked down at the palms of his hands, trying to figure out if they looked different after what had happened on the football field. 

“Come on, we both know something is wrong, so just talk to me,” Morgan said. “How long have I known you? Going on four years now? And never once have I seen you practically throw coffee onto one of our patrons.”

“It’s just…” Rick looked up. His throat felt like it was closing. “I’ve had kind of a weird day.”

“What’s so wrong with that? Weird is what keeps things exciting,” Morgan replied.

“I guess,” Rick said. “I’ve just been tryin’ not to think about things. I don’t know how to feel about what’s happened and--”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. Are you listening to yourself? You’re trying not to think about things, and yet you don’t know how you feel about them? Well, no shit. How about that.”

Rick blinked in surprise. He tried to come up with the last time he had heard Morgan utter any word worse than “crap,” but couldn’t. The man was probably the most carefree, calm person Rick knew. Well, usually.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to _think_ about things to find out how you _feel_ about them,” Morgan went on. “That’s just the way it works. And after you decide how you feel, then you just go with your gut from there and things have a habit of working themselves out.”

“But people--” Rick started to say.

“Screw people,” Morgan declared. “You think that if I would’ve just gone about my life, pretending like I was content with my job as a tax advisor, that I ever would have truly been happy? No. I sat down and I thought about what I really wanted, and I came to the conclusion that that wasn’t it. So I quit and I went about opening up the diner. And people can drive by in their fancy cars, to go live in their huge houses with too many bedrooms, and think, ‘Poor him. He’s just some guy cooking bacon and that’s all he’ll be until the day he dies.’ But you know what? I couldn’t be happier.”

And that was all well and good for Morgan, but at the end of the day he didn’t really know what was going on. “This is kind of a different situation, Morgan,” Rick said.

“Does this have to do with Lori?” Morgan asked. When Rick only seemed confused, Morgan explained, “It seemed to set you off when I asked about the wee--er, dandelions for her. So, did she do something? Always hated her.”

“What? No, this doesn’t have to do with her,” Rick said. “Well...maybe a little. But she didn’t do anything.” 

“What’d I say before? Great girl.” Morgan reached out to pat Rick on the back. “But you know, Rick, if you don’t tell her what it is that’s upsetting you, you can’t really go about blaming her for what you need to figure out. But don’t feel like you have to make any hasty decisions. Maybe sleep on whatever is bothering you.”

Rick nodded, mulling over everything Morgan had said. He felt better. Not a lot, but better all the same. A little more grounded than he had been when he first walked into Morgan’s only minutes before.

Morgan was now peering through the glass storefront of the diner and let out another stream of out-of-character profanities. Rick followed his gaze to see smoke billowing out from the double doors that led back into the kitchen.

“Damn it, Deric,” Morgan muttered under his breath, hurrying back into the diner.

“Thanks,” Rick said quietly to Morgan’s back, and then headed inside himself.

When Rick got home after work he went straight to his bedroom to lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling. For the first time all day he let the reality of what had happened flood in--Daryl had kissed him. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he had kissed Daryl back. It had felt right, it had felt easy, it had set his nerves on fire, and that’s what scared Rick. It wasn’t like kissing Lori had never felt right before, but he hadn’t felt that way about her for a long time now, and he certainly had never felt like he could fall apart while touching her and not even care.

Not to mention the fact that he was an absolute piece of shit human being. Daryl had opened up to him, and not only had Rick rejected him, but he hadn’t even bothered to explain himself. And then Daryl had still stuck around to help him finish the job of picking dandelions for Lori, who hadn’t even been nice to Daryl, and when he had mumbled something about walking home, Rick hadn’t tried to stop him. But how could he have? He had felt so shellshocked that he was sure if he had opened his mouth, only meaningless sounds would have spilled forth.

Rick knew if he were a more selfless person, he’d immediately find Daryl and apologize, explain everything--how he was so jumbled up inside he couldn’t possibly decide how to feel about any of this yet. But instead Rick found himself feeling so guilty about everything that he half-hoped to never see Daryl again, while at the same time the thought made him want to cry.

He could hardly imagine telling his friends that he had kissed Daryl, another _guy_ , and that he had liked it. Just trying to picture what they would say made him want to be swallowed up by his bed to never be heard from again.

_Screw people_ , Morgan had said. Well, that was easier said than done. Of course, Morgan had also advised Rick sleep on it, and that was exactly what Rick planned on doing. Having no desire for dinner, he crawled beneath his covers, only pausing to kick off his shoes.

***

By the time Daryl reached his house, he felt numb. No, numb wasn’t quite right. Numb was what he _wanted_ to feel, to fade away, to not care. Instead he felt like the world’s biggest dumbass, the constant butt to all jokes, someone long since forgotten about who refused to believe that they had been, in fact, forgotten, and who in the process of pretending like anyone really cared about them proceeded to get themselves hurt time and time again. 

He was unbelievably pissed off at himself for listening to Beth. Of course in her head, her world, it was perfectly all right to like someone. He was sure she had never not been liked in her entire life, and if she had been, she probably hadn’t even blinked, an unlimited resource of understudies waiting in the wings for her to choose from. 

Daryl could have liked Rick quietly. Kept it to himself, something private only for him, and at least had Rick as a friend. But now he had nothing. He was right back where he had started, but carrying the weight of it all was so much more empty once you knew what it was like to share that burden with someone else. Daryl thought about calling Carol; never before had he needed her more, and while he didn’t have a cell phone, he did have a home phone that usually had service. But suddenly he was sure he was nothing more than a bother to her. All he ever did was be miserable around her and occasionally complain. Never once had he heard her talk about her own problems, never once had he asked her about the nightmares that must keep her up some nights, and surely she had nightmares after Ed--Daryl knew what it was like to have someone who was supposed to love you hurt you instead.

_Maybe that’s all love is_ , Daryl thought. _Getting hurt, over and over again, and learning not to give a damn._

So Daryl squared his shoulders and he hardened his gaze and he walked up the steps to his house. His dad’s old pickup truck was in the driveway, yellow and rusting. Yellow like a warning sign. Will Dixon was home.

Will was smoking in front of the TV. He let out a round of booming, hacking coughs as Daryl closed the front door, and Daryl waited for them to subside, standing perfectly still, perfectly obedient. One didn’t just pass by Will Dixon and not expect to be addressed.

Sure enough, Will said, “Sure took you long enough to find your way home. I didn’t realize that the way from the school to the house was such a fuckin’ treck.”

Daryl almost sighed. Almost. He was just that fucking done with the day. And that’d be sure to get Will out of his chair, swinging. Inflicting pain upon Daryl until he couldn’t feel anything anymore. Maybe that’d finally knock some sense into him.

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. The insides of his cheeks were rough and scarred from years of chewing at them in order to keep back angry words. Daryl had quickly learned that most things weren’t worth explaining. 

“I was in the school library,” he said. “It was this...tutorin’ thing.”

“I should’ve known.” Will barked a laugh. “Of course you would need to be tutored. You’re probably failin’ out of school, just like your retard brother. You never gave your mother any reason to live, neither of you. Fuckin’ disappointments.” 

Will tossed his cigarette over his shoulder without even turning to give Daryl a glance. The cigarette butt bounced off Daryl’s chest, leaving an ashy smudge right in the middle of his shirt. It didn’t really matter if Will had taken what Daryl had said as Daryl being the one who needed help in school. Another thing not worth explanation. Either way, his father would think he was stupid. 

“Yep,” Daryl responded. He turned and headed to his room, working on the other cheek.

Once in his room, he grabbed his crossbow. If he didn’t get out of the house he might suffocate. The crossbow was a nice model, easily the most expensive thing he owned, and had been one of the few birthday gifts he had ever gotten in his life, given to him by Merle when he turned nine. He remembered how big it had seemed then, how difficult it had been to pull back the string. Merle, who had been sixteen at the time, had called Daryl a girl, and Daryl had immediately started practicing with it until using the weapon was merely second nature, and his aim was unwavering. 

Sometimes Daryl thought back to before Merle had started disappearing for lengths of time, back to when they had seemed to do everything together. When he was younger he had thought they were close, but looking back he supposed he had always been more of a partner-in-crime for his older brother. Hell, as soon as Merle had turned eighteen he had even convinced Daryl to take the fall for him for a few drug busts, knowing that Daryl would get off easier. 

As if summoned merely by the thought of his name, Merle shoved open Daryl’s door. “Goin’ hunting, baby bro, or just plannin’ on takin’ care of Will once and for all?”

Daryl realized he had just been staring at the crossbow blankly, holding a handful of the bolts. “What do you think?” he huffed, loading the crossbow and setting the spare bolts into the according slots. 

Merle cocked his head to the side, watching Daryl. “Don’t you ever think of it, though? Killin’ him, I mean. Cuz I sure as hell do.”

“No,” Daryl said truthfully. He wondered if there was something wrong with Merle, or something wrong with himself.

Merle shrugged. “All right. Need some company?” 

It had to have been years since Merle and Daryl had gone hunting together. And what use could Merle be? He didn’t have a crossbow, and it wasn’t like they were going far enough that Merle could use the old hunting rifle they had and not get the cops called on them. 

“Why are you still here?” Daryl asked.

Merle scowled. “Are you kiddin’ me? You’re the one who was just bitching yesterday how I’m never around. Do you want me to come along or not?”

“Do whatever you want,” Daryl grumbled, pushing past Merle and out of his room. He walked as quickly as he could manage to slip past the living room, and thankfully his father didn’t ask where he was going.

A small part of Daryl was secretly relieved when he heard the front door reopen and shut behind him, and he turned to see Merle had followed. Silently the two brothers entered the woods behind the house, walking for a good fifteen minutes until the trees had grown so thick together, the late afternoon sun was barely visible.

In half an hour Daryl managed to shoot a bird out of a tree, but that was it. His heart wasn’t really in it. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment where it had all gone wrong, when he had kissed Rick. The look on Rick’s face. He had been horrified. He probably had always been hanging out with Daryl because he felt bad for him, and there was only so far pity could go. Daryl was fucking stupid, just like Will had said.

Without warning, Daryl stepped down on a loose rock jutting out at the top of a small incline, and before he knew it, his world was turning sideways and he was rolling down the muddy slope. It wasn’t a far drop, but he landed hard on his knee, tearing open his already ripped up jeans there and doing a good job of scraping off most of the skin on his kneecap, turning it into a bloody mess. Daryl cursed; usually he wasn’t so careless, but he had been lost in thought.

Merle came jogging down the slope, doing little to hide the huge grin he was wearing. “You okay, brother?”

“Fine.” Daryl pulled off his shirt and tied it around his bleeding knee, which was starting to sting, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t take.

He stood, straightening up, and Merle sucked in a breath. Daryl realized his back was to his brother and he quickly turned around to face him. 

“I didn’t know he did that to you, too,” Merle said.

“It’s not like it’s anything you don’t have on your own back,” Daryl remarked.

They were referring to the scars, of course. Prominent, raised, and an unnatural white, lighter than the rest of his skin, they crisscrossed the whole of Daryl’s back, inflicted by Will’s belt during one of his particularly bad rages. Daryl still remembered the blackout pain each time the belt’s buckle found home, biting into his skin. 

“I know, but I didn’t know he was like that to you,” Merle said.

“Bullshit,” Daryl spat.

“Daryl, I’m serious,” Merle insisted. He took a step forward, as if to reach out to Daryl, then seemed to think better of it. “I knew he was an asshole, all right? I know...I know he knocks you around a little, but I thought that was it. Like how some families are havin’ affairs or some have parents who get tired of their kids and ship em off to boardin’ school or some shit. It’s just somethin’ you endure. But I didn’t know things were that bad. You never told me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re never around,” Daryl said. “Looks like you passed the torch.”

The sound of something big moving across the ground snapped Daryl out of it. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself_ , he thought, ducking down behind some brush just as a huge buck emerged from behind a cluster of trees. He lined up the shot, aiming for the throat so the animal wouldn’t suffer any longer than it had to. And then Merle, who had dropped down beside him, flicked on a lighter with an audible click.

In seconds the startled deer had darted away. Daryl turned to Merle in disbelief, who was currently lighting the end of a joint sticking out of his mouth. 

“Did you just do that on fucking purpose?” Daryl demanded.

Merle exhaled, smoke reeking of marijuana billowing from his mouth. “I need a fuckin’ break.”

“Damnit!” Daryl stood, slamming down his crossbow. Immediately he scooped it up, cradling it in his arms, a moment of panic flaring through him that it might be damaged. Fortunately the crossbow had been made for wear and tear and appeared fine. 

“Jesus.” Merle stood as well, leaning back against the trunk of a tree. “If you’re so goddamn hungry, why don’t you just use some of the money I gave ya and go out to eat. You didn’t already spend it, did ya? Besides, do you really want to be luggin’ back a whole buck and skinning and gutting the thing this late in the day?”

“It’s not about needin’ food,” Daryl snapped. “It’s about needin’ _space. _” But in that moment he knew that he could be in the middle of a desert, with nothing around him but endless, flat, stretching land, and still feel trapped. After all, there really was no escaping himself, was there?__

__“Brother, you need to calm down. Here.” Merle extended his arm, holding the joint out to Daryl._ _

__Daryl shook his head and turned his back to Merle, letting his hair fall into his face. He needed to think but couldn’t make sense of his thoughts; he needed not to think but couldn’t keep the thoughts from coming. He was drowning in it all, in everything that he couldn’t take back, everything he didn’t want to._ _

__“I think I’m goin’ crazy,” Daryl whispered. “I’ve gone what feels like my entire life not caring, so I don’t understand why everything’s just now starting to hurt so much.”_ _

__“I am not nearly stoned enough for this,” Merle said. But then, after a moment, his voice taking on a more serious edge, he said, “Let me tell you a secret, Daryl. No one’s ever gonna understand you better than you. It’s a fundamental fact. And we all get mad at each other because we piss all over the others’ feelings, and we’re inconsiderate bastards, or maybe we cared too much and fucked everything up, when it’s really not our faults. We aren’t psychic. But do we all realize that and sit down and sing kumbaya together? Hell no. Because people are fuckin’ terrible. The sooner you accept that, the more fun the ride will be.”_ _

__Daryl wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, hoping Merle wouldn’t notice. If he did, he didn’t say anything. Daryl stared at his brother for a second. Then he turned and walked home._ _

__***_ _

__Rick woke up the next morning an hour and a half before his alarm would go off. Far too much time to be okay with, but not nearly enough to fall back asleep and actually feel well rested. He forced himself to peel back his covers and sit up._ _

__For a moment he forgot about yesterday and it was like nothing had ever changed, but then that moment was over, and it all came crashing back to him. Rick wanted to throw up. He still couldn’t believe what a massive dick he had been. He vowed to talk to Daryl that day, no matter how hard it might be, and no matter how unsure he was of what he might say._ _

__Rick picked up his cell phone and was greeted with fifteen missed calls from Lori, all from last night after he had fallen asleep. What, had she been dying or something? He took a deep breath, reminding himself not to take his frustration out on her, and called her back...and of course she didn’t answer._ _

__“Fuckin’ hell,” Rick grumbled under his breath, just as the doorbell rang._ _

__It was Shane’s day to drive them to school, but it was definitely way too early for him to already be showing up. Rick’s mom was an elementary school teacher who often went into work early to grade papers, so Rick was going to have to answer the door himself, still in yesterday’s clothes, his thick hair sticking up every which way._ _

__The doorbell rang again, and all of a sudden something occurred to him. He was suddenly sure that it must be Daryl, that he had remembered where Rick lived, that he had come over to talk. Despite his earlier worries Rick found himself flying down the stairs and ripping open the door, filled with only relief._ _

__Instead Lori stood there, looking extremely pissed off._ _

__“Oh. Lori.” Rick cleared his throat, trying to sound less disappointed. “I, uh, saw you called and I tried to--”_ _

__“Where were you last night?” Lori interrupted, pushing into the house. “I looked like an idiot.”_ _

__“What?” Dread filled Rick. She couldn’t possibly be talking about the football field. The kiss. She hadn’t been spying on him, had she?_ _

__“Quit acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” Lori snapped._ _

__“I really don’t,” Rick said. At least he hoped not._ _

__“Dinner. At my house. My grandparents were visiting, you were finally gonna get to meet them. I told you I was going to wear my new red dress, and I asked you to wear somethin’ red, and you said you would. I can’t believe this. Were you even listening to me?”_ _

__Oh. So that’s what she had been talking about when she said to wear red. Not homecoming. Rick felt bad, but it was honestly a bit hard for him to prioritize this over all the other things he had to feel bad over, and most of his guilt was overcome by his relief that Lori did not, in fact, know about him and Daryl._ _

__“I’m sorry if this sounds like something dumb to get mad over, but we waited hours to eat, Rick,” Lori said. “And then when my grandparents suggested I try and call you, you don’t even answer. All night they keep askin’ me, ‘Oh, did he call back yet?’ When they finally left I was reassurin’ them that you didn’t hate me. I mean, what were you even doing yesterday?”_ _

__“Lori, I’m sorry. I must’ve forgot. I went to bed right after work. I had had a long day. And before then I was arranging homecoming stuff for you.” It wasn’t like the picking-dandelions-part of Rick’s day had been the exhausting portion, but Rick was willing to say anything to get Lori off of his back at that point._ _

__“Oh. So you were ‘arranging homecoming stuff’,” Lori said, literally doing air-quotes. “So this is my fault, then?”_ _

__“If you don’t believe me, you can ask Daryl,” Rick said, perfectly aware of his clipped tone._ _

__“Of course. So you were with Daryl. Your little movie date.”_ _

__“Jesus Christ,” Rick groaned. “Are we seriously still on this? I told you, that--”_ _

__“Wasn’t a date thing. Yeah. Yeah, I know.” In seconds Lori had gone from yelling to only sounding drained. “That’s the thing though, Rick. Fine. It wasn’t a date. I believe you. I wasn’t bein’ serious. It’s just...yes, I’m your girlfriend. But I shouldn’t just be the guaranteed yes to when you want to do something that involves bein’ a couple. You’re supposed to want to spend time with me.”_ _

__Rick had never really been all that into psychology, but he remembered reading in a book once something about how a person’s brain would always automatically come up with a way to justify said person’s decisions or mistakes, and how it was nearly impossible to tell a story about something you may have done wrong without throwing in excuses. That’s what was happening now--Rick could think of a million arguments to make with Lori, a million reasons why she was wrong and he wasn’t. But in the end he knew the way he was treating her was unfair._ _

__Somewhere along the line, Rick had changed, and Lori had not. And now Lori was left floundering, having not yet noticed that the boy standing before her had grown into a stranger. She still loved the old Rick, and that wasn’t her fault. But the new Rick wasn’t so sure what he felt, and how could he tell her that without hurting her more? How does one tell someone they’ve fallen out of love with them without being able to give a single reason why?_ _

__“Hey, Rick. Lori. Am I interruptin’ something?” Shane poked his head into Rick’s house cautiously, like he thought something might be thrown at him, before stepping fully inside. “I came over early for some breakfast. Do you have any milk, cuz we ran out.”_ _

__The prospect of facing the rest of the day made Rick want to go back to sleep. If he went to school he’d have to put on an act, continue to pretend that he was still the Old Rick for Lori’s sake. Or he could just man up and break up with her._ _

__“I...actually am feelin’ kind of sick,” Rick said. He considered fake-coughing but then decided that was too much. “I don’t think I’m gonna go to school today. But I’ll see you later, man.” He walked towards the front door, forcing Shane to step back outside._ _

__Lori walked out after Shane, arms crossed over her chest. “So I guess I’ll see you later too, then, Rick.”_ _

__“I really am sorry about last night,” Rick said._ _

__Lori sighed. “I know.” She turned and headed to her car, which was parked in front of his house._ _

__“Okay, but can I please just get some milk real quick--” Shane said just as Rick closed the door in his face._ _

__“You really are a horrible person,” Rick said out loud to himself._ _

__***_ _

__Daryl really didn’t want to go to school that day, but he wasn’t about to forfeit the last bit of control he had in his life just because he was feeling sorry for himself. So he went and made sure he was on time, and he forced himself to pay attention in all of his classes. All day he tried to come up with something to do about how he would have to sit next to Rick in sixth period, but short of doing something drastic like calling in a bomb threat and getting the school evacuated, he had nothing. Maybe he would just ditch, give up on his perfect attendance record once and for all. What was he trying to prove with that, anyway?_ _

__He managed to avoid Rick all day--in fact, he didn’t even see him. He also managed to avoid Carol, which wasn’t easy. They didn’t have any classes together, but Carol’s Daryl-senses must’ve been tingling, because he caught her looking around in the halls between periods for him a couple times, but managed to duck away before she’d spot him. He was on his way outside for lunch when the last two people he had been worried about stepped into his path._ _

__“Hey, Daryl,” Glenn said, smiling. “We were going to go out to lunch. You want to come with?”_ _

__Maggie was standing next to Glenn, and she was smiling, too. They were just both so goddamn smiley, weren’t they?_ _

__“Why?” Daryl said._ _

__“What do you mean why?” Maggie asked, but Glenn didn’t seem to catch the hitch in Daryl’s voice._ _

__“You haven’t seen Rick by any chance, have you?” Glenn asked. “I don’t think he’s in school today. Usually I see him between classes.”_ _

__Well, at least that meant Daryl wouldn’t have to worry about sixth period now. He looked from Glenn to Maggie, both oblivious, happy, and probably already on the way to being in love, and he couldn’t believe they were still doing this to him. Still pretending like they cared, if anything only to make themselves feel like better people._ _

__“Why would I know where Rick is? I’m not his fuckin’ keeper,” Daryl snarled. “You guys should know that if you want to hang out with him so bad, you don’t have to put up with me anymore.”_ _

__“Um, okay...” Glenn seemed confused, probably surprised he had been caught in the act. “What’s going on? Yeah, Rick’s our friend, but you’re our friend too.”_ _

__Daryl had to laugh at that one._ _

__“Daryl, we aren’t lyin’ to you,” Maggie said. “And with all the help you’ve been to Beth--”_ _

__“That’s another thing,” Daryl growled. “You can tell your smartass sister that that’s over, too.” He walked away, half storming off, half fleeing because it hurt more than he had expected to accept he was truly alone._ _

__The rest of the day passed in a blur. Daryl couldn’t concentrate in class, though he made sure to write down anything any of his teachers put down on the board. He’d have to go over all of his notes later if he had any hope in making sense of any of this. If only people were as simple as math, which always seemed to have one single, absolute answer._ _

__English class was weird without Rick there. Even before they had sat next to one another, Daryl had always noticed him. Rick was the kind of person who demanded attention. He tried not to stare at the empty desk, wondering if Rick was sick or if he just hated Daryl so much now that he couldn’t bring himself to come to school._ _

__When the bell finally rang, Daryl was so grateful he all but ran out of class. For the first time ever, home seemed like the best place to be._ _

__And then, from behind him, a voice said, “Daryl.”_ _

__Daryl stopped. He didn’t want to, but he didn’t have a choice, as if his body had gained a mind of its own. Slowly he turned._ _

__Rick was standing in front of him._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the (kind of) cliffhanger. I swear I have plans for this story, but I have to get all the in-between stuff done first.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick finds he must face what happened between him and Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? What is this? A new chapter?? You guys, I really am sorry about how long this one took. I've just been so busy. But I plan on seeing this fic to the bloody end, goddammit! Anyway, thank you to those of you who have kept reading and sending me nice comments, I've read them all and they've kept me motivated to finish this chapter. I hope you like it.

All day Rick tried to make himself feel better about what had happened yesterday. He washed his truck, he cleaned his room even though it wasn’t even that messy, and even went as far as to organize the books on his shelf by alphabetical order, and the clothes in his closet by color. The next person who came into Rick’s bedroom was going to think he was a clean freak. He was about halfway through some boring zombie movie on TV--God, Rick hated zombies--when it hit him that he shouldn’t be trying to make himself feel better, he should be trying to make Daryl feel better. After all, Rick was the one who had behaved like a complete jackass.

He glanced at the time on his phone to see that school was just about to get out. Not even pausing to turn off the television, he grabbed the keys to his truck and sprinted out the door. It was only once he was actually sitting behind the wheel that he started to question what in the hell he was doing, and what he was supposed to say, what arrangement of words he could possibly string together that could magically make everything okay, and whether or not he deserved to say them. Rick’s chest felt incredibly tight, and he wanted thought maybe he ought to turn around and just go home, or at the very least pull over and think about things, but instead he just kept driving, driving, driving, and then there was the school, and then he was pulling into a parking spot, and then he was getting out of his car, walking towards the school, remembering that he should probably lock aforementioned car, turning around and doing so, and then finally entering the building.

The bell ending sixth period rang just as Rick stepped foot into the school. The halls instantly flooded with kids, pushing and fighting their ways past one another as if they thought if they weren’t the first out of the building, they’d be condemned there forever. For a second Rick stood there stunned, slightly paranoid that every single student somehow knew why he was there. 

But of course, that was crazy. No one even bothered to glance Rick’s way as they brushed past him.

 _Besides, it wouldn’t matter even if they did know,_ Rick cursed himself. _You’re only here to talk to Daryl, nothing else. Quit being such a fucking coward._

Somehow he managed to get his feet working again and started for the Mr. Baker’s English class. What if he wasn’t quick enough? What if Daryl had passed by him without him even noticing? What if--

Rick turned the corner into the hallway the class was in, and as if by fate, Daryl had just walked out of the classroom. Rick could only see the back of Daryl’s head, and his coppery hair stuck up in each direction just in this one spot in the very center, like he had only bothered to brush the sides and then had decided it was good enough. This might’ve almost been endearing if not for the fact that Rick’s stomach was in knots, and he was starting to realize that he actually had sort of been hoping that he really had missed Daryl, which was completely fucking ridiculous and contradictory considering all Rick wanted to do was talk to him. Did people still send people to deliver messages for them? Maybe he could hire someone. Send a bike messenger, a carrier pigeon, literally anyone or anything else other than him.

Daryl started to walk away.

Rick hurried to catch up with him, realized he was too close to him, took a step back into someone and started to mumble sorry before discovering that the “someone” was a locker, and then he spoke before he could second-guess himself anymore. 

“Daryl.”

Daryl made turning around into an entire process. It started with the stiffening of his neck, the resolute clenching and unclenching of his fists. 

Rick stared at that spot of messy hair on the back of Daryl’s head and thought, _Maybe I still have time to run._ Then he took a step back into the locker for a second time and remembered he had cornered himself against an entire bank of them. He wouldn’t have actually left, anyways. Probably.

Ever so slowly Daryl came to face Rick, and Rick was sure that Daryl must be doing this to him on purpose. His face was expressionless, and Rick wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t as if he had been expecting some sort of warm reception, but at least a look of surprise.

Rick waited for inspiration to strike, for some sort of poetic apology to flow from his lips. But instead, when he spoke, all that came out was, “Hey. How’s it goin’?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Although Daryl’s voice came out cold and pointed, words crafted painstakingly into fine daggers, his expression--or lack thereof--did not fail to stay exactly the same, and it was perhaps the scariest thing Rick had ever experienced. “You should’ve--” And all at once Daryl stopped talking and walked away. 

Rick was quick to rush after Daryl, following him outside into the student parking lot. Maybe kids were staring, maybe they weren’t. Rick didn’t look, and he tried not to care. He wanted so badly to be the kind of person who wouldn’t care.

“Daryl, wait!” he snapped, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. Here he had pushed aside his panic and shown up at the school to do--well, he wasn’t exactly sure what, but he had come, and that had to count for something, didn’t it? But Daryl didn’t seem interested in even giving Rick the chance to explain himself. “Daryl, the least you could do is fuckin’ listen to me.”

Daryl whirled around so fast that Rick went crashing into him. Instantly he jumped back, and it had nothing to do with Daryl, it was merely instinct, but he could tell that Daryl took it personally.

“The _least_ I could do? Are you serious right now? I don’t owe you shit, Rick, and you don’t owe me anything, either. And the thing is, I had almost gotten myself convinced that for some reason you did. It’s like...like everything I do is backwards. From the day I was born, it was all some huge joke, all so fake, a hilarious show that nobody bought any tickets for. And I can’t...I just can’t…” Daryl trailed off, breathing hard, and he seemed confused himself, and Rick couldn’t make sense of what Daryl was trying to say, of what he wanted Rick to say in return, so he waited, and sure enough, after a few seconds, Daryl continued, this time in a calmer tone. “If I were anyone else, I’d do the normal thing. I’d let you talk, say whatever it is you came here to, and I’d probably forgive you even though I _know_ there’s nothin’ to even forgive you for. But I’m not anyone else. I’m stuck bein’ me. And I don’t want to do the normal thing. I don’t want to be understood and accepted. I don’t know why, for even a brief moment, I expected anything different. This is what I would get. Of course this is what I would get. I don’t deserve to be angry, but I am. God am I fucking angry. And I can’t justify that, but I also can’t stand here and pretend with you that nothin’ happened, either, Rick. So do me a favor and fuck off.” 

And suddenly it clicked for Rick. Suddenly he knew what it was that he had to say. “You...caught me off guard, okay? And there’s probably a million ways I could’ve reacted better to...yesterday...but I’m kind of an idiot sometimes when it comes to people. But I have a girlfriend. I’m not saying everything is great between us, but I can’t just disregard that. Plus you and me have only really gotten to know each other for a few days now and I need time to think about things. And I’m sorry if it’s inconvenient for you, but I can’t really manage to do that while I’m preoccupied worrying whether or not you hate me. So I guess what I’m saying is, can’t we we at least still be _friends_?”

“Wait a second.” Daryl blinked, and Rick had to try very, very hard to relish in the fact that he had caught Daryl off guard. “You don’t hate me?”

“What?” Rick couldn’t help it--he had to laugh. “Is this what this is about? Did you think I came here to, what? Yell at you?”

Daryl didn’t say anything and looked away, letting his hair fall over his eyes.

“Oh my God, you did,” Rick laughed. “I really am sorry. I don’t know what you must’ve been thinkin’ all day, I guess I was sort of givin’ you the cold shoulder. But does this mean you forgive me?”

Daryl regarded Rick unhappily from beneath a veil of jagged bangs. “This means I’m considerin’ it.”

Rick shrugged. “Good enough for me.” And it was. That feeling was still there, that worm-filled anxiety, that lack of answers, but it was a start. And at least he could still have Daryl around, because just hanging out with Daryl really did make him happy. Though Rick knew eventually they’d have to talk about things. He wasn’t sure what Daryl really felt about him--just thinking about it made Rick a bit lightheaded--but Rick couldn’t just go on about his life, possibly leading Daryl on. He wasn’t _that_ clueless.

Though maybe the parking lot of their high school wasn’t the place to delve into the specifics of things any further. Rick finally risked a glance around, and sure enough, kids were definitely shooting looks their way. He didn’t think they had been talking loud enough to be heard, but it had probably been clear by their stances that he and Daryl had been arguing. Daryl looked around as well, as if wondering what Rick was staring at, and then frowned, shifting slightly away from him.

“I had better get home,” Daryl said. “My dad--”

“Wait,” Rick said. “We should hang out.” _Yep. That sounded normal._

Daryl stared at Rick doubtfully. “Hang out?”

“Yeah, hang out,” Rick said. “Like I said, we’ve only known each other for a few days. I still hardly know anything about you. Like...what do you do for fun?”

“Fun?”

Rick smirked. “Are you just gonna keep repeatin’ everything I say to you?” When Daryl only glowered back at him, Rick continued. “There must be something you like to do. Target practice, maybe?”

“What?” Daryl blinked. “Where did you get that?”

“Remember when I came to your house? And you almost shot me in the face? With a crossbow? Which is a really weird thing for a high schooler to own, by the way.”

“I didn’t almost shoot you in the face,” Daryl snarled. “I wasn’t even pointin’ the damn thing at you!”

“Okay, okay.” Rick held his hands up in surrender. “Anyway, I’ve never shot a crossbow before. It might be sort of fun. If I could come over you could show me how--”

“No!” Daryl shouted.

Rick frowned. He had just been starting to think that he and Daryl could be cool again, but maybe not. Then again, maybe this had less to do wtih Rick and more to do with someone else. Daryl’s bruises had already faded almost completely away, but they were still there, yellowing the skin around his left eye, a faint pattern of mosaic speckles. Mostly Rick had tried to put the black eye out of his mind; he knew how Daryl had reacted the first time he had seen it and had figured it wasn’t any of his business if Daryl had gotten into some school fistfight or something of the other. But if something was seriously wrong…

***

Daryl knew what was Rick was going to say seconds before he said it. “Merle and I got into fight over the weekend if you really must know,” he said without skipping beat, just as Rick was about to open his mouth. “Just some stupid brother thing. Can’t even remember what over.”

“I--I didn’t mean to--” Rick was stuttering, and it was clear he embarrassed.

“Yeah, you think I haven’t noticed you starin’ at my face?” Daryl felt sort of triumphant for a second before having to remind himself that Rick’s arrogant assumptions were right. The slightly smug lilt to his voice dissipated immediately, but if Rick noticed, Daryl didn’t care. “Merle’s still bein’ a prick so I’d rather not be around him.” Which was sort of the truth. Even if Will was out, Merle could be at the house, and the idea of his brother and Rick trying to coexist around the other was...troubling, to say the least. 

“Oh, okay. I figured it was somethin’ like that,” Rick said with a shrug. “I get it. I don’t have any siblings, but Shane’s as close to a brother as anyone to me and in the past we’ve traded our share of punches.”

Daryl wasn’t hurt by the fact that Rick had accepted his story so easily. He couldn’t care less. Why would Rick have cared enough to see through the bullshit? No one else did. But try as he might to reassure himself that the walls he had worked tirelessly to put around himself were still just as intact as always, Daryl knew that he had allowed cracks to form in the foundation when he had leaned forward and kissed Rick and fucked everything up for one wonderful, horrible, agonizing moment of _maybe._ Now it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down around him, and Daryl wasn’t sure what sort of person he was behind the wall, if he were anything at all. 

Maybe he would just disappear.

“You could come to my house though,” Rick said, smiling.

Daryl looked away. He knew how disarming that smile could be. He thought he might detect a twinge of hope in Rick’s voice, but he was sure he was just imagining what he wanted to hear. Rick was just being nice. That’s all he was, wasn’t he? Nice. And Daryl didn’t even know how to be mad at him, or what to be mad at him for, because he was just so damned _nice._ Daryl bristled at the show of pity--that’s all this was. Pity.

Daryl looked to the space to the side of Rick’s face. He still wasn’t allowing himself to look fully at Rick, though if he focused his eyes slightly to the right, he could just make out Rick’s dimple. _I can’t,_ he told himself to say, even though he certainly had nothing else to do. _I don’t want to,_ even though Daryl did, which surprised even himself. And, as if his entire body were against him, he found himself saying, “Fine.” Whether Rick asking Daryl to hang out was a show of pity or not, Daryl found that he wasn’t easily going to be able to rid himself of the part of him that wanted to be around the other boy, acknowledged by him, simply looked at by him, and he hated himself for it.

“Fine?” Rick repeated. He nodded, seeming to mull it over, before saying, “Fine will have to do, I guess. Anyway, I drove here, so…” He pointed to where his truck was parked just a few feet away.

The drive wasn't nearly as awkward as Daryl had expected it to be. Instead, it was a million times worse. 

Rather than try and think of something to fill the gaping wound of silence between the two of them, Daryl occupied himself with poking around Rick’s car as Rick drove, which in retrospect was probably sort of rude, but if Rick minded--or even noticed what Daryl was doing--he didn't say anything. The truck was mostly empty except for a forgotten cheeseburger wrapper stuffed under the seat, an auto handbook riddled with sticky notes bookmarking certain passages (Daryl took it that Rick’s truck broke down a lot), and the usual vehicle registration papers in the glovebox. There was also a polaroid photo of him with Lori tucked at the bottom of the glovebox that it looked like she had taken while Rick was driving one day. Daryl pretended not to notice it--or how happy the two of them looked--as he finally closed the glove compartment. 

Rick, however, did. He had looked away from the road at some point, running a stop sign, but he just kept on driving, ignoring the honks he got from a passing car and the fact that he could’ve just killed them both, just ended it all. “I had forgotten that picture was there,” he remarked. He turned his eyes forwards once more just before hitting another stop sign.

Daryl knew they were almost to Rick’s house. It would be so easy just to say nothing, to slip into another bout of strangling silence, but oh God was he sick of holding his breath. Oh God how he wanted to _breathe._

“No kidding,” he said, and his voice was absolutely dripping with mock sugary sweetness, and he was perfectly aware of what a fucking petty child he was being. But then again, Daryl had never really had the chance to be a child, so perhaps this was just time made up. “You two look _really_ fuckin’ happy.”

“We do, don’t we?” If Rick caught the fact that Daryl was only patronizing him, he didn’t show it. “We really do _look_ happy.” His hands tightened on the wheel ever so slightly, and his knuckles were white as bone. “I wonder how long we were happy, or if we still are, or how long we’ve looked happy, or if we still do. I wonder how long it’s even been important for me to have answers to any of these questions, or if it even is at all.” He cocked his head slightly to the side, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “You’ve really screwed things up, ya know that?”

Daryl sat there, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t offended, not exactly. More like...stunned. He already knew he had messed up when he had kissed Rick yesterday, already knew that he wanted to take it back, or at least that he wanted to want to take it back. But actually hearing Rick say the words out loud was something else entirely.

Rick laughed, shaking his head. “I could’ve been perfectly fine actin’ like…But you came along and you…” Rick trailed off, each line of thought being fired off with the ferocity of fireworks, but fizzling out far too quickly, too. Rick’s usual display of casual bravado may have been brilliant and full of brightly lit colors, but when there was nothing left to show for it after it har shimmered away, what was the point?

Daryl continued to sit there, saying nothing. Maybe he ought to defend himself. After all, Rick was the one who had been so persistent he come over. But it hardly seemed to matter. Things had been fucked up beyond disbelief, and no one was allowed to pretend anymore. The truck was so full of unanswered questions that it was a wonder either boy fit in it at all, and Daryl was grateful when they finally pulled into Rick’s driveway.

“Aren't you afraid to be alone with me?” Daryl didn't know why he said it. Well, he knew why he had _wanted_ to say it, but he didn't know why he had gone and actually done it. It was stupid and childish, but he wanted to punish Rick for yesterday. For not reacting how Daryl had hoped he would. For not feeling the same way. For thinking that this strange neutral ground was somehow beneficial for either of them.

Rick paused in reaching to unclip his seatbelt, giving Daryl a weird look. “My mom is home,” he said, gesturing to the little white sedan that had been in the driveway when Rick pulled up.

Well that was...marginally less exciting. Far, far less dangerous. _What did you think was gonna happen anyways?_

The two got out of the truck and walked up Rick's walkway to the front door. His house was as homely-looking as ever--it had goddamn shutters, for crying out loud--and not for the first time Daryl wondered what sort of tragedy his own house must have appeared to Rick. And he still didn't want to have to meet Rick’s mom, to have to justify himself her, to have to be inevitably judged by her, to have to look at her and think: _Is this what a mom is supposed to be like? Was my mom ever like this?_

Some days, if Daryl thought back hard enough, he was sure he could remember his mom laughing, holding him, singing. Other days he was sure he was just recalling a dream, that she must have always been broken.

Rick threw open the red front door, immediately yelling out, “Mom, I'm home!”

“I'm in the living room,” came the response.

Rick turned to Daryl. “I apologize in advance for any humiliating things my mom is about to say.”

“Um,” said Daryl, and then, “Okay.”

Rick led the way into the living room, and Daryl concentrated on not looking too amazed by anything he saw, because normal high schoolers weren't impressed by the collection of family photos decorating the walls.

The first thing Daryl thought when he saw Rick's mother was how different two of them looked. She had light brown hair streaked with copper swirled into a bun atop her head, and dark eyes unlike Rick’s own ocean blue. (Not that Daryl was thinking about Rick’s eyes, of course.) She was also short and tiny, and this coupled with her hairstyle made her sort of resemble one of those wind-up ballerinas inside of music boxes.

“Oh.” Rick's mom stood from where she had been sitting on the couch watching TV. “Rick, I didn't realize you brought someone over. Who's this? I don't usually see you with many people outside of Shane and Glenn. And Lori of course, but…”

“Mom, I have more than two friends,” Rick exclaimed before turning to face Daryl and reassuring him, “I have more than two friends.” 

Rick looked mortified and Daryl had no idea why. Counting Carol he pretty much had one friend. Rick had said at the school that he wanted _them_ to be friends, and Daryl still didn't know what he was doing here, in Rick's house, but maybe he refused to make things easy for Rick. Maybe he didn't want Rick to get what he wanted just like that. 

“All right, I'm sorry,” his mom said with a laugh. “I'm Rose. And you are…?”

Daryl began to internally panic. This was the moment he had been dreading, the moment where all of the rumors about him and his family would come forth, leaving behind no room for actual first impressions. Not that he was making a great one. Not meeting Rose's eyes, he mumbled, “Daryl. Daryl Dixon.” 

But if the name meant anything to Rose, which surely it did in a town this small, she didn't show it. “Nice to meet you, Daryl.”

“What are you doin’ home so early?” Rick asked. “The elementary school doesn't get out for another hour.” For Daryl’s benefit he added, “She's a teacher.”

“There was an assembly at the end of the day and they let out school early,” Rose replied. “I'm supposed to be gradin’ a bunch of my third graders’ work but I've just been watchin’ house shows since I got home. Shh, don't tell anyone.”

Rick let out an exasperated sigh, but no matter how embarrassed he acted, Daryl could tell he loved his mom. It was clear they were pretty close.

“Well, we could help if Daryl doesn't mind,” Rick said after a moment.

Daryl’s eyes shot straight up from his ratty black tennis shoes to glare straight at Rick, who shrugged in response. He couldn't very well say no, that he could think of a million things he'd rather do than bond with Rick’s mother, when the woman was standing right in front of him, a monster-sized stack of papers waiting to be graded sitting on the glass coffee table between them.

“Rick, don't be ridiculous. I doubt your friend came over to grade papers,” Rose said. 

There. There was an out. But Daryl still found himself feeling strangely guilty, when normally he couldn’t care less about letting people down--disappointment was what they tended to expect from him, wasn’t it? But he didn’t get that vibe from Rick’s mom. 

“No, it’s uh...it’s no problem,” Daryl found himself saying.

Rick grinned triumphantly. “See, Mom? I bet together we knock this out in fifteen minutes flat, easy.”

So that's how Daryl wound up grading spelling tests for the next _sixteen_ minutes, Rose planted between Rick and him on the couch. It was actually sort of amusing; third graders seriously couldn’t spell to save their lives. On top of that, Rose seemed to be full of endless childhood tales about Rick, like the time he cut off all his eyelashes when he was nine because older ladies wouldn’t stop commenting on how long and “pretty” they were, or how when he was twelve he became convinced he could build wings of sorts out of bedsheets and wire from straightened out coat hangars, and jumped off the roof of their house, breaking his arm on the way down.

“It was only later that it was funny,” Rose giggled. “I was freakin’ out that he was going to be paralyzed or something when I ran outside to his screams to find him layin’ on the ground. You should’ve seen Philip’s face when he met us at the hospital to find out what his son had done. I mean, twelve is a bit old to think you can fly with a sheet of all things. And don’t even get me started on the time Rick let Shane convince him to give him a haircut the day before they started middle school. School pictures were the first week of school, too. I think I might still have the photo around here somewhere. Philip was always saying we ought to get it framed, put it on Christmas cards, make t-shirts with it on it...”

Even funnier than Rose’s stories was watching Rick’s reaction to them. Daryl had begun a bit of an ongoing bet with himself that Rick’s face couldn’t get any redder, but with each word his mother spoke, he proved Daryl wrong, growing another shade darker still. 

“Mom, I’m begging you, please stop,” Rick groaned.

“All right, all right, looks like we’re finished, anyway,” Rose said, placing the last marked upon paper in the graded pile. “I relinquish you boys from my borin’ old stories.”

“Philip was your dad, right?” Daryl suddenly asked without quite meaning to. He instantly regret it. After all, he had lost a parent, too, and his own family hardly ever spoke of her. Sometimes, it was as if she had never existed. “I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No, it’s fine,” Rick reassured Daryl, and he was smiling.

Rose was smiling too, and her eyes were bright, and it didn’t seem forced. “He was a good man, and he lived a good life.”

“But I shouldn’t have--”

“What? Asked about him?” Rose laughed softly. “Of course you should. Everyone should. It’s how we keep him with us. We have to live in the present, and we should fight for the future, but that doesn’t mean we can’t visit the past.”

Daryl thought that over, not sure what to make of Rose’s words. Not sure that he agreed with them. They were great in theory, but everything, all of it, it was all so cracked and ruined, that what if when he stepped back into his past, he found himself trapped there?

Rick stood. “Do you wanna go play video games or somethin’?” he asked, seeming to sense how uncomfortable Daryl had grown.

“Sure,” Daryl said, even though video games weren’t exactly his idea of fun. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, it’s just that he wasn’t very good. He had only played a few times when at one of Merle’s friend’s houses, and never long enough to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to be doing before someone was snatching the controller out of his hands to play for themselves.

“Okay, I have a PlayStation set up in my room,” Rick said, beginning to lead the way up the staircase just outside the open doorway of the living room.

Daryl was too busy frowning over the fact that the little video game experience he had was on an Xbox, and not a PlayStation, to even begin to process the fact that he was about to see Rick’s room. As in, the place where he _slept._ And was _naked._ And maybe sometimes both? With Lori (???). Daryl had to remind himself that he had no right to hate Lori for being Rick’s girlfriend. 

“Thanks again for the help, boys,” Rose called out as Daryl followed Rick up the stairs.

Daryl had never actually thought about what Rick’s bedroom might look like, but he certainly hadn’t expected it to be quite so...clean. Not that Rick seemed like a slob, but the room wasn’t just clean, it was meticulously organized to the point of the pencils that Rick had laying on his desk being lined up by size. Daryl immediately felt even worse about the trashed state of his house.

Rick dropped down to sit on the edge of his bed, facing the little TV that he had set up on a stand across the room, and after a moment’s hesitation, Daryl sat down beside him, making sure to leave plenty of space. 

“Do you care what we play?” Rick asked, handing Daryl a controller. “I have a shit ton of games.”

Daryl shook his head no, and Rick waited a moment, like he thought Daryl might change his mind. When he didn’t, Rick finally shrugged and turned on the PlayStation, starting up the game that must have already been in the console, some mindless first person shooter. They played for awhile in silence, and Daryl kept dying, but Rick didn’t make fun of him like Merle would’ve, at least.

After some time--minutes, an hour, it was impossible for Daryl to tell--Rick said, “I didn’t mean it. Just so you know. About you screwin’ things up. You forced me to think about some things I was happy to ignore and I...Well, it’s not your fault. None of it is. And I’m sorry if I made you think that.”

Daryl was so surprised he ended up getting shot straight through the head by the enemy team in the game, which was only mildly annoying, all things considered. (He had been starting to get the hang of the game, after all.) Because he hadn’t been expecting an apology. It had never even crossed his mind to want one.

And at some point, Daryl had moved closer to Rick on the bed, or maybe Rick had moved closer to him, and their hands, having been dropped to their sides as the game loaded a new round, were lightly touching, pinkies brushing together.

He must be breathing. He knew he must be, because he was alive, and here, in this moment, almost holding hands with someone who made him feel like he could catch fire, burn, and not even care. And yet his lungs felt empty, and he felt so light, like at any moment he could simply float away until he ceased to exist. Was this what being happy was supposed to feel like? Was it supposed to take so much effort, so much self-reminding, and be so utterly exhausting?

 _Maybe this can be enough,_ Daryl thought. _Maybe I can make it be._

***

Rick didn’t buy the story about Merle and Daryl getting into a fight. Obviously. He wasn’t that big of an idiot. Daryl had seemed scared, and then he hadn’t, and then he had spout a whole lot of bullshit before withdrawing even further behind his walls. But Rick was beginning to be able to see straight through him.

He had tried to get himself invited to Daryl’s house so he could investigate, because he couldn’t very well just start making accusations when Daryl wasn’t even willing to tell him the truth, but Daryl had shut down that plan pretty quickly. But at least Rick had gotten Daryl to come over yesterday. They had played the ps4 for maybe an hour or so, but eventually Daryl had had to go home. And Rick hadn’t wanted him to. Not if that was the place where he was getting hurt. But he couldn’t get Daryl to tell him the truth, and he couldn’t very well just keep him. Of course not. Definitely not. So Daryl had left, and Rick hadn’t slept at all that night, paranoid the whole time.

Rick had now moved on to Plan B, which was find out what the only person Daryl seemed to trust knew. He arrived at school a little early much to the indisposition of Shane, who had been a dick all morning, complaining the entire car ride over. 

“What the fuck are we even doin’ here, Grimes?” Shane grumbled. “Who are you are looking for?”

Rick was currently standing in front of the steps that led up into the front entrance of the school, watching every kid who walked by, but so far no luck. Shane had followed him and was grumbling under his breath, arms firmly crossed. Rick was about to tell him that he could feel free to leave when he spotted Carol standing several feet away, talking animatedly with a group of loud, laughing girls, many of whom Rick recognized as cheerleaders, which was surprising. It wasn’t like he knew that much about Carol, but if she was anything like Daryl, it was weird to see her willingly spending time with that crowd.

“I’ll be right back,” Rick said as he hurried towards Carol.

Unfortunately, Shane tagged behind him.

“Carol, can I talk to you?” Rick asked when he reached her, the group of girls she was standing with falling silent in curiosity.

“Wait, what?” Shane looked from Rick to Carol, and then back again to Rick. “This is what you dragged me to school early for? I mean no offense--I’m sure you’re a lovely lady, Carol--but are you two even _friends?_ ”

“Jesus Christ, Shane, shut up,” Rick groaned. “You own a car. You could’ve driven yourself.”

“But today is your day to drive us to school. Yesterday was my day--it’s not my fault you decided not to come--and today is your day.”

“Shane, I’m seriously gonna kill you,” Rick said, “if you don’t stop talking.”

“Fine,” Shane said in a huff, falling silent.

Sometime during the course of Shane and Rick’s completely ridiculous argument, Carol’s eyebrows had risen higher and higher up her forehead until they were practically touching her hairline. “Are you two done?” she asked. When neither of them answered, she said a quick goodbye to her friends and started walking. “Are you comin’?” she called over her shoulder.

Rick and Shane both followed Carol several feet away from her friends. She stared at Rick, waiting patiently for him to explain himself.

Rick cast a sideways look at Shane. He definitely hadn’t wanted to do this in front of him. “It’s about Daryl,” he said.

“Ah.” Carol nodded, entirely unsurprised. “Of course it is.”

“Are you kiddin’ me? Daryl Dixon? First you make me drive you to his house on Monday, and now this?” Shane demanded.

At the moment, Rick could not care less about how insane he might seem right now. He didn’t get why Shane was being such an asshole.

So he said, “I don’t get why you’re being such an asshole.”

Shane threw up his hands. “Finally you ask! Andrea got asked to the dance by some other guy and she said yes. She fuckin’ said yes, man. I know we have our problems, but I always thought--”

“Shit,” Rick said. And then he said it again: “Shit.” And again: “Shit.” Because he had just remembered something, and he had really fucked up now. “Shit! Shit!”

Shane nodded. “‘Shit’ is right. I don’t know what to--”

“The dance. The fucking dance!” Rick shouted.

“Yeah.” Carol smiled, clearly concerned, speaking slowly like she thought Rick was slow. “It’s next Friday.”

“I know! But today is Friday! Today!” Rick yelled.

“Are you havin’ some sort of mental breakdown?” Shane asked. “Do you need me to, like, get a teacher or somethin’?”

“No, oh my God, fuckin’ hell. I was supposed to ask Lori to the dance today,” Rick moaned, sliding his hands down his face. “She’s gonna show up to the football field any second and I didn’t set up anything. I completely forgot about her.”

“Well, shit, man. Don’t tell her that,” Shane said. 

“Maybe I still have time--” Rick began, just as the bell telling kids to head to their first period rang.

With no plan in mind, Rick took off running towards the football field, shoving past kids heading the opposite way into the school building. He knew what he would find even before he got there, and sure enough, there was Lori, sitting on the bottom bleachers, waiting. Only, she didn’t look furious like Rick had been expecting. Instead, she seemed exhausted. Rick glanced over at his side in surprise to see that Carol had followed him.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” she said with a shrug.

Ignoring her, Rick walked tentatively over to Lori. When she didn’t react--didn’t even look at him--he sat down beside her. The short run over, his mind had been racing, trying to come up with the right words, the perfect apology, and hell, maybe he could just ask her to the dance, just ask her like any normal person. It wasn’t like she had been expecting anything that extravagant out of him, anyway. But sitting next to her felt so heavy, and he couldn’t understand what he was fighting so hard for anymore, couldn’t make himself see it.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait here,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands once again and this time thinking that yes, yes they were different, that they had changed so much in just a week. “And I didn’t do this scavenger hunt thing just to punish you, just in case that’s what you’re thinkin’. I’m not mad at you.”

“I know,” Lori said. 

Rick looked up. “But--”

“Don’t say it,” she said, stopping him. “Just for a second. Don’t say it. Just...hold on, and don’t say it, just for a moment.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. After a few seconds she opened them, and her light brown eyes had never seemed more clear. “Okay. Okay, I’m ready.”

Rick waited another second anyway, but she wasn’t going to stop him again. “I do think we should break up,” he said, and it hurt. It hurt a lot, actually, even though he was the one saying it. And he could tell Lori a whole lot of things, things that were all true, like how it wasn’t her, it was him, or how she was an intelligent, beautiful person, and that she would find someone better. But at the end of the day, who really wanted to hear that from the person dumping them? “I don’t know what we’re holding onto anymore.”

“I thought, for a while, the past. The good times,” Lori said with a bitter laugh. “But what’s the point, when the good memories will only be replaced with bad ones if we let them, right?” She sighed, tucking her hair behind an ear. “But you’re right. I know you’re right.” She held up the wilted bouquet of dandelions, which had been sitting on the bleacher on the other side of her. “By the way, dandelions? You do realize these were mostly dead by the time I got to ‘em?”

Rick started laughing, and Lori joined in, and for a moment they just sat there cracking up, looking like the two happiest pair of sad people the world had to offer.

“Maybe we can still be friends,” Rick said as their laughter died down, but his words sounded hollow even to him.

Lori stood, her smile sad. “Thanks, Rick. But probably not. I’ll see ya ‘round.” She walked away, walked past Carol, turned the corner around the edge of the building, and was out of Rick’s sight.

Carol walked over as soon as Lori was gone, sitting down beside Rick. “You okay?” 

“Sorry for draggin’ you away from your friends for this,” Rick sighed, not wanting to answer Carol’s question. Not wanting to have to think about it.

Carol gave him a quizzical look. “I’m not friends with those girls. We’re just in the same physics class and last week one of them got a copy of this exam we have coming up that’s supposed to be half our semester grade. So, naturally I made sure we became close.” She rolled her eyes. “You will not believe some of the things I had to endure at the slumber party I went to last weekend with them.” 

“Oh,” Rick said. “Wow. That’s kind of maniacal and evil.”

“I think you’re forgetting ‘ _and smart_ ’,” Carol replied. “Anyway, what was so important? In case you haven’t realized, we’re missing class right now.”

Rick pushed the pain he was feeling aside, letting himself focus on the task at hand instead. “It’s Daryl. He’s not okay, and don’t try to tell me that he is. I just want to know what’s goin’ on.”

Any amusement that might’ve been playing in Carol’s face instantly died as she got to her feet. “Rick, this is something you’re going to have to talk to Daryl about.”

“But obviously he won’t talk to me, or I wouldn’t be asking you!” Rick snapped, standing as well.

“Then that’s that. I’ve known Daryl for over a year, you’ve only bothered to get to know him for a week,” Carol said coolly. “So why don’t you mind your own business and stop acting all high and mighty, all Mr. Save-the-Day.”

“What the fuck do you think this is? Me havin’ a hero complex?” Rick demanded. “His dad is hurtin’ him, right? That’s it, isn’t it? And we’re all acting like if we don’t say it, it won’t be true. But look at this! Look at everything that could’ve been avoided if we could just stop pretendin’ like everything doesn’t suck!”

“Looks like you’ve got your answer then,” Carol huffed, trying to walk away.

Rick quickly stepped in front of her. “I need you to tell me what to do. I don’t get why _you_ haven’t done anything.”

The look Carol gave him then was so murderous, Rick actually took a step back. When she spoke, each word was clipped, low, and dangerous. “If you’re actually beginning to suggest that you care more about Daryl than I do, I’d suggest you keep it to yourself. I’ve gone to the police. He’s gone to the police. And no one has done anything. He’ll be eighteen soon. So all you can do is not make things worse. Why are you even doing this? Why now? Because you and your girlfriend broke up?”

“What?” Rick asked, incredulous. “I wanted to talk to you before I even talked to Lori.”

“Yeah, but you knew this was coming, I know you did. So why _did_ you and Lori break up? You know, besides all the poetic nonsense you told her?”

“I think…” Rick started, letting his words fall away.

“You think what?” Carol raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“I think…” Rick stopped and sighed miserably, because the whole _saying-it-will-make-it-real _mantra was nothing but a load of bullshit, and regardless of whether or not Rick said the words, what he was feeling would still exist, would still be real, and the realness of it all was so terribly and beautifully inescapable, so bloody and tiresome.__

__But also, perhaps, worth the fight for each word, no matter how atomic._ _

__“I think,” he tried again, “that I might like someone else,” and the world did not, in fact, fall off its axis like he thought it might._ _

__Carol burst out laughing, literally throwing her head back as if she had never heard anything funnier. “Well, fuck,” she said. “That much, Rick, is obvious.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really liked this chapter, so I hope you guys did too, and I promise to try and post the next a lot sooner <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick deals with the consequences of the realization he had about Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhjkd;afj;adjf so this isn't the longest chapter ever, but it's not the shortest, either. And I'm actually really proud of it, and worked hard on it, so let me know what you think!

Daryl’s Friday began with him opening his eyes. He never just woke up; there was always those few brief moments before, in which he became perfectly aware that he was sleeping, dreaming, unraveling. And then the entire world would tip, would be pulled out from under him, and he’d find himself extracted from sleep, at first a gentle tugging around the edges, and then a terrible yanking. Sometimes he would fight it, but never with much intent. He always knew he would lose. And then, impossibly, he would open his eyes, and create light from dark, light rays passing through retina transforming into flashing impulses lighting up nerve endings feeding into the optic nerve. Daryl didn’t know how any of this worked, and yet, he could still see. 

He had dreamed of Rick. Not of kissing him, which he wished he could do again, but knew he never would. Not of touching him, though he ached to, ached to map out of every inch of his body with the tips of his fingers, and hated himself for it, for needing someone so badly when no one had ever needed him. He had dreamed of simply being with him, of sitting beside him on a tall hill. All around them had been waving grass and sky and clouds, it was all there was, and who were they, so miniscule, to bleed imperfection into the otherwise unblemished. 

He couldn’t remember if they had talked. They must have talked, surely. Or maybe they hadn’t. That would have been all right, too, because it would have been a comfortable kind of silence, the kind that birthed entire galaxies between it. Daryl was floating.

His bedroom door swung open. The footsteps were heavy. Daryl remained perfectly still, staring at the popcorn ceiling, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Because no matter how many times he was hit, or thrown, or dragged, he was still afraid of the pain. It was too quick, too creative, too clever; there was no getting used to it.

“Good, you’re awake.” It was Merle.

Daryl sat up, grateful for the rush accompanied by going from horizontal to vertical too quickly, leaving no room for anything else. “I am now,” he grumbled, even though he already had been. 

“Stop,” Merle said, and for a moment Daryl thought his older brother meant talking, so he did. But then Merle said it again: “Stop.”

“I don’t--”

“I know you went to Rick’s house last night.” Merle spoke in a low voice, and he watched the door from the corner of his eyes, and all at once, with a sinking feeling, Daryl knew Will was home, and probably awake. 

“What’d you _follow_ me?” he demanded. He didn’t know whether or not to be angry or ashamed. He reminded himself that Merle couldn’t possibly know anything about the kiss, and went with angry. “What the fuck do you care who I’m friends with, anyway?”

Merle barked a laugh. “You ain’t friends with Rick Grimes. People like him don’t hang out with people like us outta anything but pity, plain and simple, baby brother. Besides, I know…” He looked away, refusing to meet Daryl’s eyes. “I know you’ve never been interested in any girls, and I don’t want to see you do anything stupid.” Finally he looked up, eyes hard and serious. “I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you, Daryl.”

Daryl clenched and unclenched his hands into fists. He took a few experimental breaths. He was sure he must be on fire. He was sure he must be drowning. He was sure he must be dead. His hands felt sticky and wet, and when he opened them again, he found that his nails had gouged perfect crescent moon shapes into his palms, blood welling in each satellite. 

“I have to get to school,” he said, even though it was way too early. He got out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, and shoved past Merle, who said nothing the whole time.

He would not look in the living room as he passed it.

“He has a nice place,” Will said.

Daryl stopped. He looked.

The back of the recliner faced him, and the back of his father, who sat in it. The TV was off. 

“Real nice, real big. I can see how you’d be impressed with it. I haven’t exactly,” he said, and he turned around, and he smiled, “given you a very good life.” When Will smiled, he was almost handsome, all trace of the broken man within smudged out. He stood slowly, purposefully.

Immediately, Daryl knew that Will was sober. Will Dixon sober was only that much more frightening--sober, Will was calculating. Sober, Will was smart. Sober, he was patient with the pain that he would inflict.

“You’ve always been so different, son. So very different, and such a disappointment. Your brother’s an idiot, but at least the things he does, the girls he fucks, the things he says, they make sense. Your mother, she coddled you, until she couldn’t anymore, until she couldn’t stand to look at you.” His voice was so pleasant, his smile was so genuine. It was hard to focus on his words, everything was blurring together.

Will was walking ever closer, and it was like in a nightmare, where the space from A to B would stretch out endlessly, further and further right before your eyes. Daryl wasn’t sure if he was awake, he strained to remember if he had actually opened his eyes that morning, or if it had only been a memory from the day before and the day before that and the day before that one.

“I know what you must think of me. I know you must think I killed her, that it was somethin’ I did or said that made her not want to be anything anymore. And you’re right. But if I killed her, then so did Merle, and so did you.” Will was now standing directly in front of Daryl, and he reached his hand out. Daryl flinched, but then he leaned into it. At last, something he could understand. But the blow never came. Instead, Will gently placed his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, and it was so much worse, it was crushing, it was anticipation with no release. “We’re all the same kind of monsters, Daryl. Like father like son, after all.” The smile was gone. He squeezed, hard, and then released Daryl. “Don’t prove me right about you. Now get out.”

Daryl fled. He down the porch, across the lawn, and stopped in the middle of the street. He hunched over, hands on his knees, leaving blood smeared across his jeans. His cheeks felt wet, but he refused to wipe his eyes. 

“You don’t cry,” he told himself furiously. “You don’t cry.”

He sensed more than heard someone come up behind him. He willed Merle to go away, and when he didn’t, Daryl sprung up and shoved him back.

“You told him!” he shouted. “You fuckin’ traitor! You followed me yesterday, and then you told Dad whatever it is you think is going on, for no other reason than that you could! And I hate you. I do. And I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, because what even are you to me? _You left me with him._ You always leave. What are you even still doin’ here, now? And you tell yourself that I’m almost eighteen now, but I wasn’t almost eighteen a year ago, or two years ago, or fucking three. And I can’t be like the rest of them, like everyone else, because it’s always there, it’s always followin’ me around, and they can smell it on me. But Rick--he’s different. Maybe he doesn’t see it, maybe he just doesn’t care. _And you told him._ You told Dad, and now it’s all ruined.” He shoved Merle again, hard, and then, when his brother didn’t react, he punched him.

The hit had been hard, to the temple, and Merle fell to the concrete. He picked himself up neatly, a nasty gash at his hairline. “I didn’t tell him anything,” he said. “Will followed you, wanted to see where you had been disappearin’ to lately, and I went with him, to make sure he wouldn’t try and do anything to you. He was drunk, and I could barely keep him in the car when when he pulled up in front of Rick’s house.” 

Daryl watched the red drip down Merle’s face, and he thought, _I did that._ The realization was exhilarating, and it was sickening. It had been terrible, and it had felt good, and oh god, his father was right, Daryl was just like him.

Merle turned and walked away, down the street, the opposite way from the school. Daryl watched him go. If he didn’t leave for school now, he really might be late, so finally, he left, too.

***

Though Rick was content to sit on the bleachers for the rest of the day, quite possible for the rest of eternity, he knew that all of the things he had to figure out wouldn’t get any less uncomplicated the longer he avoided them. Carol waited beside him in silence until he was ready to go, which evidently was after the ending first period bell rang. Even an unexplained absence was better than another tardy. 

They parted ways without a word, a sort of fragile understanding having been forged between one another. Rick walked to second period, and the whole time he thought, _I like Daryl Dixon._

He took a test, and the whole time he thought, _I like Daryl Dixon._

He went to third period, and then to lunch, where he sat next to Shane, who questioned him on what had happened with Lori--“We broke up, and that’s all I want to say about it”--and he thought, _I like Daryl Dixon._

He needed to find him.

But Daryl, it turned out, was pretty good at staying hidden. Rick thought about it, and realized he had never once seen Daryl at lunch before. However, he had also never seen Daryl absent to school. So he sat anxiously through fourth period, and unbearably through fifth, and he was the first to his sixth period English class, literally running through the door.

“Rick,” Mr. Baker greeted him dryly. “You’re early. It’s almost like you knew we were starting our advanced analytical study into the works of Shakespeare unit today.” He handed Rick a thick packet of Shakespearean writing.

Rick sat down at his desk and started tearing the front page of the packet into tiny strips of paper. Kids slowly trickled in, including Andrea, who simply gave Rick a concerned look before sitting down. The first bell rang, and the rest of the class came with it. Daryl arrived with the chime of the second bell. 

The first thing Rick noticed about Daryl was how good-looking the other boy truly was. His hair was long, but suitably so, shiny and thick, his face sharp and angular. He couldn’t believe that all this time Daryl must have liked him, and yet, Rick was only just now allowing himself to acknowledge his own feelings. He could only hope it wasn’t too late for him to catch up. The next thing he noticed about Daryl was the expression on his face--he looked lost, hardly there at all. And then Rick saw the blood on his jeans.

Daryl sat down beside Rick wordlessly, staring straight ahead at seemingly nothing at all.

“Daryl, are you okay?” Rick whispered.

Mr. Baker started talking about some of the double meanings hidden in _The Tempest._ He sounded about as excited as the class looked.

_“Daryl.”_

Daryl looked over at him, his eyes focusing. “What?”

“I said...never mind. Look, what happened?” 

“Nothing happened.” Daryl grimaced, and Rick thought it might have been meant to be a smile. “I’m fine.”

But it didn’t take an expert to see that he wasn’t. Rick didn’t want to say what he knew he needed to next. He knew it would ruin everything, that it was the wrong thing to say while simultaneously being the right, that it would fuck everything up the way he seemed to excel so especially at. With just four little words, four single syllables, Rick looked into Daryl’s eyes and he betrayed him. 

“Was it your dad?”

Daryl didn’t react. The non-reaction was worse, his stillness that of a corpse’s. “Did Carol tell you?”

“Daryl, she didn’t have to.”

Mr. Baker’s booming voice cut off any response Daryl might have had. “Rick! Since you already appear to be in quite the chatty mood, why don’t you share with the class your opinion on _The Tempest_?”

Rick looked at Daryl look at him. And Daryl? He looked at Rick like he didn’t know him.

“My opinion,” Rick said, “is that the play fucking sucks. I don’t know why I’m supposed to care about any of the characters, or any of the multiple fucking storylines, and to be honest, I SparkNotes-ed most of that goddamn, horrible piece of literature that is, for reasons beyond my comprehension, still relevant in the 21st century.”

“Well.” Mr. Baker startled, and then wet his lips. There was slight laughter from the class as they tested out whether or not Rick was trying to make a joke. Andrea had turned around in her seat, expression unreadable. “Well,” Mr. Baker said again. “I think that you had better go and share those thoughts with the dean.”

Rick stood. Daryl looked away from him. Rick left.

He did not go to the dean. Instead he walked the halls, up and down the stairs of the two-story school building, daring someone to stop him and ask him where he was supposed to be, but nobody did. Eventually sixth period ended, and Rick walked back to Mr. Baker’s classroom, standing outside the door until Daryl stepped out. Daryl tried unsuccessfully to walk around him, Rick sidestepping into his path.

“My dad was a police officer, and I still talk to some of his cop friends,” Rick said. He tried to sound less desperate, but desperate was how he felt. 

Daryl sighed. “What do you expect me to do with that information?”

“You could talk to them. You could fight,” Rick insisted. “Why the hell are you not fightin’?”

Daryl’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I am. I know it’s not in a way that someone like you can understand, but I am, and all you’re managin’ on doin’ is making things ten times harder.”

This was not about Rick. _This isn’t about you, you terrible, selfish, horrible human being._ But Rick couldn’t help it; he had never been very good at letting things go. “What do you mean, ‘people like me’?”

Daryl shrugged, and it was so easy for him not to care. And even if it was only an act, all that meant was that it was so easy for him to lie. “You’re popular. You’ve got the perfect friends, the perfect house, the perfect life. You’ve never had to get learn to get used to livin’ while in pain.”

It hurt Rick more than maybe it should have. Because it had been years, and he was supposed to have moved on, because that was what people did, because life wasn’t kind enough to sit back and wait for you. “My dad is dead,” he said.

Passerby were staring.

“And my dad,” Daryl said, holding Rick’s gaze, “wishes I was.”

For a moment, there was no air, but only for a moment, and not for long enough. “And how do you know that?” Rick challenged, trying again.

“You know how I know,” Daryl said coolly, “and fuck you, Rick, for tryin’ to make me say it.”

Kids were definitely staring now, and for once, Rick could say that he without a doubt did not care. He wanted them to see this. He wanted them to watch he and Daryl implode.

“What is wrong with you?” he hurled out, and it was not the worst thing he could have said, because in that moment he was so much angrier than he had been in a long time, and there was blood on Daryl’s jeans, and blood roaring in Rick’s ears, and none of it made any sense. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“Because, what else is there to do? Because isn’t this what I always do? Because I’m poisonous, and I’m just like him, just like my….And it’s leaking into everything, spilling out onto everything, onto you, onto Glenn and Maggie and Merle, and I’m so sick of being responsible.” Daryl didn’t look angry, didn’t sound angry. He spoke in the manner of someone who knew they were right, and the effect was infuriating. 

But Rick’s entire body was wound like a weapon’s, and he was proving Daryl right. So he carefully released his breath, and he analyzed everything that had been said, and not said, and he tried to figure out how he could have possibly gone from being excited all day long at the thought of seeing Daryl to this disgusting feeling now worming its way in the pit of his stomach.

All that came out was, “I can’t.”

They were suspended and frozen, they were falling and racing. It was all one huge circle, linear and complete, and all that meant was that eventually Rick and Daryl would come hurtling back into one another. How cataclysmic, he wondered, would the consequences be the next time?

Daryl said, “Then don’t.” 

Outside, Shane was waiting next to Rick’s truck. Rick’s shoulders sagged in exhaustion, and he waited for Shane to complain about having had to wait. But instead, Shane immediately started talking, about nothing in particular, about things that had happened to him throughout the day, keeping the one-sided conversation lighthearted and unimportant. He was doing it for Rick, and Rick was grateful for it. He couldn’t talk right now, and Shane could tell.

They only made it halfway home before the truck broke down, giving Rick no time to pull to the side of the road before it shuddered to a stop in an unceremonious burp of black smoke from the front hood. The truck was always breaking down, and really it should not have come as a great shock that it would stop now, because it had been a while, and it was already a shitty day. They were on a back road, and the chances of anyone driving past them were slim to none.

“I’ll call a tow truck,” Shane suggested, pulling out his cell phone.

Rick got out of the vehicle. He walked around to the bed of the trunk and retrieved the tire iron he kept back there. He went to the hood and pulled it open, heat and foul smelling air blasting up around him. And then he started beating the inside of the truck with the tire iron, each clang of metal against metal ripping its way through the bones in his arms, each sound of something breaking satisfying. He stopped only once he had exhausted all of his energy, sweat dripping down his face, ready to topple over. He steadied himself on the edge of the truck.

Shane got out of the truck and slowly reached over to take the tire iron from Rick. “The tow truck will be here in ten.”

“Thanks,” Rick said.

“Any time, Grimes. Any time.”

And so they waited. Eventually the tow truck showed up, and took the two of them and the truck, which Rick had regrettably managed to commit thousands of dollars worth of damage on in a matter of minutes, to the town’s only car repair shop, where Rick’s mom met them and took them home. By that point Rick had managed to collect himself, and if his mother noticed anything was wrong, she didn’t ask.

Once home, Rick locked himself in his room and tried to work on homework, but never before had trigonometry seemed like more of a waste of time. When his mom called him to dinner he went downstairs and ate, but only so she wouldn’t worry, and because once upon a time, three people had sat at this old oak dining room table and had family dinner together every night, and he couldn’t imagine her sitting there alone, eating fucking mashed potatoes like she wasn’t perfectly aware of the empty seat where his dad had once sat. So Rick sat down at the table, and he ate mashed potatoes, and he was aware of it with her.

When his mother asked if anything was bothering him, probably picking up on his sulleness, he went with a partial truth, telling her that he and Lori had broken up, which hadn’t been fun, either. Honestly, the day had been doomed to begin with. How he had thought he could somehow turn it around now seemed ridiculous. 

His mother gave him a sympathetic look. “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here, sweetheart.”

After dinner, Rick washed all of the dishes by hand, even though they had a dishwasher. His mom was always complaining about the soap scum the shitty contraption left on their dishes, and the simple, repetitious motions helped him not to think. When he was done, he told his mom he was going for a walk, grabbed his coat, and set off, no real destination in mind. The sun was starting to set, the sky lit up in brilliant pinks shades of pink and orange. He was passing by the local gas station when he hard a familiar voice call out, “Rick, hey!”

Rick turned to find Glenn jogging out of the gas station, holding a Slurpee, baseball cap planted firmly on his head despite the lack of sun. “Dude, are you okay? I heard about you and Lori.”

“From Lori, I assume,” Rick grumbled, remembering how Glenn had said they apparently texted.

“Um, irrelevant,” Glenn said slowly. “But also, yes. And sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Rick relented. “And I’m fine. To be honest, I just feel like a huge dick about the entire thing, because I broke up with her for no reason other than that I don’t love her anymore, and who the hell does that to someone? Just...stops?”

Glenn was quiet for a long time. Rick stared at his Slurpee and thought about how it was probably melting, and he wished that Glenn would just drink it already or say something or do anything other than just stand there.

Finally Glenn said, “If you ask me, I think that not loving someone is an extremely good reason to break up with a person. You can’t control how you feel, and there’s no good in beating yourself up over it. You did the right thing, man, and Lori pretty much told me the same thing. You know. Right after she got through telling me what an asshole you are, and about how you ruined her entire life, and all that.”

Rick blinked at Glenn in shock.

“Oh my god,” Glenn said. “I’m so sorry, bad joke, bad joke. That’s why I don’t--sorry. Anyway, you’re going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” But it was everything that had happened earlier with Daryl that was really bothering Rick, and he wasn’t sure how he could talk to Glenn about it.

“Okay, good. By the way, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Daryl,” Glenn said.

For a second, Rick was sure Glenn had somehow read his mind. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “What about him?”

“He kind of blew up at Maggie and me yesterday at school, and we’re both really worried about him. Maggie asked Beth about it, and Beth said it might have been something she said when he was tutoring her.”

Well. Now Rick knew what Daryl had meant about ruining things with Maggie and Glenn. But did he really think that he had somehow damaged things so irreparably? Looking at Glenn, it was obvious the younger boy was only concerned.

“Tell Maggie to tell Beth that it’s nothin’ she did,” Rick said. “It’s all my fault. Daryl and I have kind of been fightin’ lately, and we got into another huge fight today after school, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Finally Glenn took a drink of his Slurpee. “Fighting? About what?”

“You’ve heard the rumors about his dad, I’m sure. And it turns out his dad is...is hurting him, and Daryl won’t let me try and help.” Rick stopped. He knew he probably shouldn’t have said anything, that it wasn’t his secret to share. But he couldn’t be the only one who knew, he couldn’t be the only one who wasn’t doing anything about it.

“Shit, Rick. I don’t...I don’t even know what to say.” Glenn took his hat off, running his fingers through his hair. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, and he had to bend down and put down the Slurpee cup. “I mean, off course I’ve heard the rumors. And I must have known. I knew, and I just...ignored it. Fucking hell.”

“Yeah, well, me too,” Rick muttered, “and somehow I’m to blame because Daryl doesn’t want to talk to the police. But maybe if I go down to the station and--”

“Rick, if you tell the police about this and Daryl isn’t willing to cooperate, there isn’t much they can do, and you know it. I don’t like the reality of it any more than you do, but you’d just be making things unnecessarily harder for him.”

There was that anger again, hungry and raw. But Glenn was only telling the truth. Rick took a deep breath. “Fine. Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Stop fighting with him, first of all.” Glenn seemed to realize how harshly he had spoken, and his expression took on an edge of uncertainty. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just…” He sighed. 

Rick knew Glenn wasn’t usually one for confrontation. But he also knew Glenn was a lot smarter than him. “Glenn, just spit it out. I can take it.”

“Well...just...what are you even fighting with him for? Why are you mad at him?” The more he spoke, the faster he did, as if growing more and more confident with each word. “For trying to survive? Daryl is doing things the only way he knows how, and you’re coming along and trying to tell him how it’s all wrong, when you hardly even know anything about his life, or his dad, for that matter.”

“Wow.” Rick blew out a breath. “I didn’t know you had it in ya, Glenn.”

Glenn had an expression of pure amazement across his face. “Me neither. Damn, that felt good. Maybe I should start a life advice podcast.”

“You’re right,” Rick said, and it was easier to admit than he had thought it would be. “Of course you’re right. It’s just hard.” He looked to Glenn, waiting for the other boy to stop him, almost wishing he would, but he didn’t. “It’s hard, because I like him. I like him a lot, Glenn.”

Glenn picked his Slurpee back up, swirling the melting drink around with the straw.

“What? Nothin’ to say?”

“What is there to say?” Glenn asked. “Though if you like him so much, you’d think you’d yell at him less. What is this, third grade? Are you going to pull his pigtails and call him names, too?”

“Okay, Glenn? You can stop now.”

Glenn grimaced. “Sorry. And for the record, I’m not telling you to do nothing, I’m telling you just to be there for him. Maggie and I will be, too. We all care about him.”

It was like a weight was slowly being lifted off of Rick’s shoulders. He nodded, mostly to himself. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

“Oh, and you should probably tell him if you like him,” Glenn said, “because Daryl doesn’t really strike me as the kind of person to notice that sort of stuff.”

Rick nodded again. Glenn was right. So he would tell Daryl, and he’d tell him as soon as possible, before he lost his nerve. But he didn’t think Daryl had a cell phone, and he remembered how angry Daryl had gotten when he had showed up unannounced at his house last time.

“Glenn,” he asked, “do they still make phone books?”

***

No one ever called the house phone except for bill collectors, and it had long since been moved into Merle’s bedroom, set at the lowest volume, since he was hardly ever home to be bothered by it, anyway. Daryl had used it a few times to talk to Carol in the past, but neither of them were really the chat-on-the-phone type, and she knew better than to call Daryl’s house, anyway. So when Merle kicked his bed that night, startling him awake, phone outstretched in his hand, Daryl knew it wasn’t her.

Daryl had fallen asleep early, more out of misery and hunger than actual fatigue, and it took him a minute to gather his bearings as he sat up. Merle’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. “If you don’t take the phone in the next five seconds,” he said coldly, “I’m hangin’ up.”

Daryl took the phone.

“And you and Grimes better talk quietly,” Merle said over his shoulder as he left Daryl’s room, closing the door behind him.

Daryl’s heart instantly started racing. He couldn’t talk to him. His finger hovered over the end call button, and he replayed everything he had said earlier in his head. He had been relentless, a hideous, twisted version of himself, and it had come all too easily. He thought of Rick’s face, the way he had looked at him. The way he had hardly been able recognize him.

 _But_ he _called_ you, Daryl reminded himself. He pressed the phone to his ear. “Rick?”

“Daryl.” Rick sounded relieved. “For a second I thought Merle wasn’t gonna actually give you the phone.”

“Why are you--”

“I want to go somewhere,” Rick burst out. He sounded breathless. “With you. I mean, not now. Obviously not now. But tomorrow. If you want to. Since we don’t have school.”

“You want to go somewhere?” Daryl repeated, feeling numb. Was this really why Rick had called?

“Yes,” Rick said. “And Daryl...not...not as friends. I want to go somewhere, on a date.”

Daryl put down the phone and got out of bed. He had fallen asleep in his clothes, and his jeans and shirt stuck to his clammy body. He paced his small room, probing what this new feeling was, trying to figure out if the walls were closing in, or if they were opening up instead. Finally he picked the phone back up. “Hello?”

“Daryl? I thought you hung up.”

“I--”

“Wait. Before you say anything, I’m sorry. I’ve been selfish, and a jackass, and I’ve taken in account my own feelings before yours. And I don’t..I mean, I don’t even know if you still like me, so maybe I’m just bein’ a jackass again and assumin’ things, but if you do, I don’t want you to like me just because you feel like you did something wrong, and like you owe it to me. And I don’t want you just to forgive me, either. I want to earn it.”

Once again, Daryl was at a loss for words. It had never once occurred to him that Rick could be in the wrong instead of him. Because surely it was him. It had to be him, it always was. But here was Rick, telling Daryl the opposite.

“Okay,” Daryl said.

“Okay?” Rick’s voice cracked slightly, and Daryl wondered if this was what he sounded like when he was nervous. “Okay about what I just said, or okay about the date?”

“Okay about both,” Daryl said. “I’ll meet you at your house tomorrow afternoon.” He hung up before Rick could say anything and lay back down, holding the phone to his chest. He felt warm all over, but he was also terrified. Because in the past, whenever things started to go good, it was only so that it could all be torn apart again, dragged tooth and nail out of a dream as he was every morning. Over time, Daryl had learned to stop expecting anything at all.

 _Not this time,_ he thought. _Not this time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN THE NEXT CHAPTER THEY'RE GONNA GO ON A REAL DATE GUYS


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date, god bless :')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A special thanks to user AkiroAku for giving me the idea for this date*
> 
> I think the fact that I had to reread my own fic just to remind me what was going on is proof enough that I've been away for far too long. So, without further ado...

Daryl woke up the next day the way he had fallen asleep--in a state of general confusion, his stomach doing nervous backflips. The expression, “Butterflies in my stomach,” seemed rather inappropriate for what he was feeling; he reckoned it was more like he had swallowed a whole nest of angry vipers that were currently working their way back up his throat. He sat up slowly, worried that if he moved too quickly, if he thought too deeply about the odd feeling he was experiencing, that it would be taken away, that whatever it was in the universe that was out to get him would take notice and begin the usual chase. He was still holding the phone against his chest, and he set it down on his bedside table. 

He was sure he hadn’t dreamed at all last night, which was unusual, but welcome. Normally all he ever had was nightmares.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he experimented with a smile. First, the idea of it, and then the action itself--a tugging at the corner of the lips, a release of all the usual tension in the hardset of his eyes. It didn’t feel good, exactly, but it wasn’t terrible, either. It was more like being exposed, vulnerable. The action was like announcing to the world that you had something that could be used against you. The vipers in his stomach twisted again, flailing and biting, and he quickly dropped the corners of his mouth back into its usual indifferent line.

He got over to bed and went over to his closet, staring at the sad arrangement of clothes, most of them spotted with some sort of holes or the other after years spent out in the woods. He had never worried too much about how he looked--he had been cutting his own hair himself since his mother’s death--but that didn’t mean he didn’t know he looked bad. He still had most of the hundred dollars from Merle as he hadn’t spent any of it since paying Rick back, but the idea of showing up to meet Rick in an outfit that Rick would surely be able to spot as new was more humiliating than just wearing his usual shitty clothing. Besides, he wasn’t sure what Rick had planned, and Daryl wanted to be able to have his own money, just in case.

Daryl settled for a light blue shirt that he didn’t wear very often due to the fact that he couldn’t blend in at all in it when hunting. He got most of his clothes from the clothes donation box that was put out twice a year in front of no other than the grocery he had been fired from. It was an old trick Merle had taught him, but Daryl never took much. He always felt guilty, and besides, the last thing he needed was his old boss or coworkers to see him rifling through the donations, confirming to themselves that Daryl really was the thief they all thought he was. He himself had never really thought of the act as stealing; he figured the clothing was going to be given away for free to people who needed it, anyway, but Daryl still felt wrong taking them. Whoever had owned the shirt before him must’ve loved the thing, as it was clearly well-worn, with a mysterious purple stain on the bottom side of it that wouldn’t come out, but it would have to do. 

_Rick won’t notice,_ he told himself as he pulled on some jeans, but it was hard to convince the usual voices in his head, voices that seemed obstinate in their desire to bring him back to his senses.

 _Why are you doing this?_ they wanted to know. 

_He says he likes me._

_He’s lying. It’s a trick, it’s a prank, none of it’s real._

_Rick wouldn’t do that,_ Daryl decided, and he was surprised to find that he believed it. _He’s better than that._

Even still, he felt somewhat off. Everything came to an end, Daryl knew that better than anyone. Some things sooner than others, up in a puff of smoke left over from the flames of a forgotten cigarette. Others ended more gradually, one blow at a time, one cutting comment sharp as a butcher’s blade, thrown from the fists and mouth of a drunken old man. Either way, an inevitable end was all anyone truly had in common, and Daryl had always gone about life figuring that if he was going to fall away in pieces, anyway, that the pursuit of trying to find happiness on the way there was all rather pointless. It was hard to change his way of thinking now, just like that, but he was trying. 

He had come to realize that he wanted to be happy.

Living in the moment, truly letting oneself experience the now, was dangerous. In the now, every punch, every injury inflicted, hurt that much more. Daryl had taught himself long ago to dissociate, to picture the moment when it was over, to chant to himself, _Everything ends, everything ends, everything ends._ In the now, there was no end. Everything went on forever. But even though he was not yet sure why, he thought it might be worth it. He wanted to be someone who could accept love without hesitation. He wanted to be strong, even if that strength meant he only had to endure that much more pain.

At the thought, he was reminded of what an asshole had been towards Maggie and Glenn in the hallway at school. He knew it would bother him until he was able to apologize, even if they weren’t able to accept it, but he didn’t know either of their phone numbers and would have to wait until he saw them at school Monday. Trying to shake it off, he opened his bedroom door a crack and listened carefully. No television sounds. Cautiously, he left his room and walked down the short hall to peer into the living room. His dad wasn’t there.

“He went to the bar,” Merle said between the unlit cigarette sticking out of his mouth. He walked up behind him from the direction of his room. “Maybe if we’re lucky, he’ll crash an’ die on the way back. ‘Course, I don’t think he has any life insurance policy.” He looked around the living room, spotted their dad’s lighter on the coffee table, and grabbed it, lighting his cigarette and letting out a stream of smoke.

Daryl sighed and pushed through the front door outside, but there were still a few hours until he could show up at Rick’s house, and he had nowhere to go, so he found himself merely dropping down to sit on the sagging porch steps. Weekends were the worse, when Daryl felt most like the house was closing in around him and eating him alive, where there was no school to take up most of the day. Most weekends, he’d spend the night in the woods if he could, making sure to catch something good for dinner so Will wouldn’t question it, but because he didn’t own a tent, he had to be careful about the weather. Looking at the sky now, it seemed that it was going to be a rainy weekend.

Merle walked out after him and sat beside him, offering Daryl a cigarette. Daryl knew he would likely reek of cigarette smoke all day but took it anyway, letting Merle light it for him. He needed something to calm his nerves, which were all over the place. 

“Do you really want Dad dead?” Daryl asked.

Merle was trying unsuccessfully to blow smoke rings, accidentally inhaled some of the smoke, and had to let out a few hacking coughs before he was able to answer. “Why do you still call him that? _Dad?_ The man’s a fuckin’ bastard.”

“Well, that’s what he is, ain’t it?” Daryl said somewhat defensively. He wasn’t sure why he was defending Will, couldn’t justify it at all, but he also couldn’t help it. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we don’t get to fuckin’ choose.” 

“That’s a mighty fine bunch of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it,” Merle said. “Fuck that. That man, if you can even call him that, ain’t my daddy. I’d thank him for the sperm donation if he’d even done a good job at that, but I think it’s safe to say that his offspring didn’t grow up to be too great, either.” He looked sideways at Daryl, cigarette already more than half gone, dangling from his lips. “I guess I can only speak for myself on that account. You still goin’ to school every day? Getting A’s?”

Daryl shrugged. He was so used to Merle’s constant teasing at his good grades that it hardly made a dent in his tough exterior anymore.

To his surprise, Merle replied, “Good. Keep it that way. I don’t want you to turn out the way I have, baby brother. My life’s shit. And I don’t just mean the beginnin’ part, the part that that fuck-up Will is responsible for. No matter what sort of fucked up childhood I had, I know at some point I could’ve taken responsibility, shit, I don’t know. Done something. Turned out better than this. But I took everything as this huge joke, told myself that I couldn’t start carin’ about school now because I had already missed so much, so then I dropped out. Told myself that trying to get clean now wouldn’t matter, because I had already done so many drugs that I was bound to die young, anyway. Told myself that I might as well steal that guy’s wallet, because I already had a record, wasn’t gonna get some fancy job at that point. It’s not even like I was just standin’ back and lettin’ shit happen. I was actively playing a part in sending my life further and further down the drain. The sad thing is, I’m still thinkin’ the same old way as ever, no more enlightened havin’ figured it out. I’m pretty sure I could still get out, find a way to make things better, but I’ve made things so hard for myself at this point that why even bother?” He threw his cigarette into dirt and immediately proceeded to light up another. “Not gonna lie. Kind of wanted to see the world someday. When I was young, I used to imagine saving up all this money, gettin’ a passport, and just bookin’ it, no plan in mind. I’d see Mexico, Italy, Japan, France. I’d just keep goin’ and goin’ till I ran out of money, and then I’d just stay wherever I ended up, where no one had ever heard of Merle Dixon before, and I’d be whoever I wanted to be.”

“That sounds an awful lot like the plan of someone on the run from the cops,” Daryl retorted, but the truth was, he was both surprised and sad for Merle. He had always assumed his brother was content, that he could go anywhere he wanted, that he enjoyed the things he did, the drugs, the lying, the stealing. But he supposed, in a way, Merle was just as stuck here as he was.

Merle chuckled, seeming to appreciate the weak joke. “My parole officer probably wouldn’t like it too much if I fled the country, so in a way, it really would be.”

They fell silent for a long time, Daryl intermittently sneaking glances at the cut snaking its way from Merle’s hairline. It had looked worse yesterday, after he had first hit him, but Daryl knew from experience that head wounds tended to bleed more. Looking at the cut now, it was tiny, miniscule, would heal without so much as a sliver of a scar. It had only been a punch, but it had also been so much more. It had been admitting defeat, admitting that he was exactly like his father, no better, no worse. He had never punched anyone before, not like that. He and Merle had been rough with each other as kids, sure, constantly wrestling or smacking the other, but never like that. Daryl had never punched Merle with any real intent, and his knuckles still hurt.

“I know I was a dick yesterday,” he tried, but couldn’t figure out a way to finish the statement. Shame filled him, and he didn’t want to have to feel like this, only hours away from his first date ever. Merle had risked a lot, going with their dad to keep him from knocking on Rick’s door yesterday, and Daryl hadn’t even let Merle explain before he had been accusing him of spying on him, before he had punched him.

“Forget about it,” Merle said. He was back to blowing smoke rings in between his words, and this time he was getting out a few pretty nice ones. “You wouldn’t have thought the worst of me if I hadn’t spent the last few years givin’ you plenty of reason to.” 

They fell silent, neither brother having it in them to say sorry. It was like Merle had been trying to say--it got tiring, after you had spent so long letting it all pile up, to suddenly decide to start sifting through the mess.

***

Rick had woken up extra early in anticipation, having tossed and turned in bed all night. Daryl had said he’d come by in the afternoon, and Rick had no idea what exactly that entailed, so he had showered and gotten dressed immediately, eating a bowl of cereal for breakfast even though he wasn’t really hungry. 

His mom, who was sitting at the kitchen table reading a book, kept throwing glances Rick’s way, barely able to suppress a sly smile. Finally, Rick couldn’t take it and had to ask, “What?”

“Nothing. You look handsome, is all,” she said. 

Rick was simultaneously horrified at being called handsome by his mom while also secretly a little relieved. He had spent way too long deciding what to wear, settling on a casual cotton baby blue button down and black jeans. He had almost, almost put on a tie before deciding that, no, people going on dates in broad daylight definitely did not wear ties. His hair, which only got curlier and curlier the longer he wore it, was starting to get a little on the shaggy side, so he felt somewhat like a hobbit, with dark curls going every which direction. He had tried slicking it back with gel but had wound up looking like the world’s biggest prick, and had had to wash his hair out in the sink. Now it was damp and just sort of sitting there atop his head in its full, unruly, curly glory. 

“Are you going to see Lori?” his mom asked, taking a sip of her coffee. When Rick only gave her a look, she said, “I just figured you two might try and work things out, is all. You never did tell me why you broke up.”

Rick sighed. He knew he was going to have to talk about it eventually, but had been hoping to avoid the subject for as long as possible. He hadn’t even answered any of Shane’s recent texts, which had only been about their weekend homework, somehow worried that if they started talking that Lori would come up in the conversation. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Shane at all since he had gone ballistic on his truck yesterday. Between all his erratic behavior lately, the guy had to think Rick was having a full-on psychotic break.

“The break up is for good, Mom, trust me. It was honestly for the best; a long time comin’, I think. We’d sort of been driftin’ apart for awhile now.”

His mom looked conflicted, as if she wanted to push the matter further, but finally she settled on asking, “Are you doin’ all right?”

He was relieved. His mother and he had their differences, but it seemed she understood him a little more than he sometimes gave her credit for.

“Surprisingly, yeah, I think I am. I think Lori is, too. She’ll definitely get over it faster than I will; she’s a lot stronger,” Rick said with a small laugh, and it was true. It was easy to look at Lori and think she was weak, someone who needed to be protected, but he knew she could be fierce. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was already making moves on finding another homecoming date. “But I am goin’ on a date.”

He knew it was soon to already be going on dates with someone else, but fortunately, his mother didn’t mention it. Instead she said, “Anyone I know?”

Rick considered this. It would be easy to lie, one simple little, “No.” But the lie would build and fester the way lies did, and only make things more difficult down the line. And, he couldn't help but think of the way kids at his school acted towards Daryl, only deeming him worthy a look when they thought he wasn’t paying attention, as if they were ashamed of him. Rick refused to be ashamed.

“Kind of,” he said. “I believe he helped you grade papers.”

His mother looked surprised, but Rick had been expecting that. And then she smiled knowingly, and picked her book back up, turning the page. “Have fun and be safe, honey. And I will be wantin’ a sit down dinner with you two sometime in the next couple weeks.”

“We’ll see,” Rick muttered, but it was obvious even to him that his annoyance was faked. His mom was pretty great, a fact that he would have to try not to take for granted.

Rick spent the next couple hours in his room under the guise of trying to get some homework done, but in reality he was pacing the room in stress. He could be a nervous person in general when it came to dating; he couldn’t remember any first dates, even casual ones bound to go nowhere, where he hadn’t been sweating bullets. But something about this felt different--it seemed every time Daryl and he were around each other, things had the potential to go extremely volatile, and he was desperate to prove to Daryl that they could just be happy hanging out with the other. But it was difficult to tell what would set Daryl off sometimes; their last fight had happened merely because Rick had been trying to be helpful. He supposed that was the point of dating though; he could only hope that the better he got to know Daryl, the more Daryl’s walls would begin to come down.

Rick was grateful when around twelve, his mom called up to him that she was headed for a walk. It felt way too soon to have Daryl assaulted at the door with all the questions his mother would be sure to have for him about whatever exactly their relationship was. Though Rick was thankful when she agreed to let him borrow the keys to her car, since his truck, which was costing more money than it was worth to repair, was still in the shop.

He glanced out his window, noting the way the sky was growing dark beneath heavy gray clouds despite it only being early afternoon. Cynthiana was prone to sudden rainstorms, and he hoped Daryl wouldn’t end up walking here in the rain. Rick would’ve picked him up, but Daryl had said he would come to him, and Rick had decided it best not to argue. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Daryl was trying to keep Rick away from his house. 

As soon as Rick had the thought, he regret it, but there was no unthinking it. Daryl still hadn’t exactly admit to anything, but Rick knew Daryl’s dad was hurting him, and he felt like he was trapped in a no-win situation. If he tried to keep pushing his help onto Daryl, Daryl would only resent him, and that wouldn’t help him, but at the same time, wasn’t it selfish of Rick, to be going on this date just for the chance to get to see Daryl, while meanwhile knowing what was going on in the Dixon household?

He went back and forth with himself for half an hour until finally, a little after twelve-thirty, he saw Daryl turn the corner at the end of the block and head up the street, his head ducked down low, hair blowing in a light wind. Rick hurried down the stairs and over to the front door, opening it, and then had a sudden terrible moment of panic where he wondered if it looked creepy or not that he had clearly seen Daryl coming before the doorbell had even rang. But Daryl had already reached the porch, and it was too late to close the door and pretend he hadn’t seen him, so Rick willed himself to stand up straighter and stop looking so goddamn petrified.

The first thing he noticed was that Daryl was in blue, and Rick realized he had pretty much never seen Daryl in anything but black. The color looked good on him--amazing, actually--bringing out his eyes and skin tone. 

“Hi,” Daryl said, breaking the tension. He looked even worse off than Rick, a nervous wreck, actually, shifting from foot to foot and barely able to keep his eyes on one spot for longer than two seconds. 

Daryl Dixon, who seemed to pride himself in being able to appear outwardly cold and unfeeling, was downright terrified. 

Rick had to admit, the fact that he could do that to him was cute. “Hi,” he said. “So, I have to warn you, I did not check the weather before I planned this date, and it’s sort of outside.”

Daryl rolled his eyes, but there was no animosity behind the act. “Of course you didn’t.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Why do I already get the feeling that you’re terrible at planning ahead?” Daryl smirked.

“Shut up,” Rick grumbled. He was amazed at how easy things felt between them, how with just a few words, his anxiety was already slipping away. “I’ll grab us some umbrellas in case.”

After grabbing two umbrellas from the coat closet next to the stairs, Rick and Daryl headed outside to his truck. It was only ten feet away from his house in the driveway, only four or five steps, but of course that was moment that Shane chose to walk out of his own house. As soon as he did, he zeroed in on Rick, shouting, “Grimes!” and jogging across the street.

Daryl seemed to shrink in on himself, looking extremely small and exposed without his usual black hoodie. 

“I was just about to come over,” Shane said. “I figured you could use some company after you and Lori. Speaking of which, you still haven't told Newhart happened. What's goin' on with you, man?”

“Sorry,” Rick said, only realizing that an apology wasn’t what Shane was looking for after Shane continued to stare at him blankly. No, what Shane wanted was an explanation. “It’s been a crazy last couple days,” he added, which wasn’t a good reason by any means, but it was the best he had.

“Yeah, speaking of which.” Shane directed his attention to Daryl, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Are you guys goin’ somewhere? _Matching?_ ”

Shit. They _were_ dressed alike, which Rick only noticed now--both in dark jeans, and the same shade of blue on top. Rick racked his brain for something to say, but could come up with nothing. He had no idea whether or not Daryl was comfortable telling people that they were going on a date. Hell, Rick himself still didn’t feel one hundred percent ready to tell anyone yet, though he wanted to be, and he thought that might count for something.

“I was just over because we have a project together for our English class,” Daryl suddenly spoke up.

Shane nodded. He still looked suspicious, but with no real reason to push the matter, he seemed content to drop it for the time being.

Rick glanced sideways at Daryl, hoping that he didn’t look as hurt as he felt. The confirmation that Daryl didn’t want anyone to know about them shouldn’t have stung the way it did; hadn’t Rick only seconds before been fearful of the same thing? But, he realized, if openly asked about it, he would’ve told the truth, just as he had with his mom. 

“Yeah, anyway, I guess I’d better drive Daryl home, so I’ll see ya later,” Rick said to Shane. He stalked over to his mom’s white VW Jetta, Daryl close at his heels.

“Um, yeah. Sure,” Shane said to his back, and if Rick hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought his friend sounded hurt. “If you want to talk about anything sometime, you know where I live.”

The drive to the date’s location began in awkward silence. Rick didn’t want to be upset, didn’t want this entire thing to be spoiled over something so stupid. Today was supposed to be a good day. 

“My truck broke down yesterday, possibly for good this time,” Rick said, just for something to talk about. “In case you were wondering about the mom-car.”

Daryl shrugged, drumming his fingers on the dashboard as he looked out the window absentmindedly. “Seems like a nice car to me.”

“I guess any car compared to my truck probably looks like a luxury vehicle...still, if they can’t fix the thing, I really am going to miss that truck.” Rick wondered briefly if he ought to tell Daryl the real reason his truck was in such bad shape, then decided that the whole tire iron story wouldn’t make things any less awkward. “By the way, before you ask, I’m not tellin’ you where we’re goin’.”

Daryl hummed slightly under his breath, and Rick was pleased to find he was trying not to let a chuckle escape his lips. “You said we’re going to be outside, this town ain’t exactly burstin’ with things to do, and the only thing in this direction is that empty lot behind the old factory, so I’m gonna say…?”

“Don’t say it,” Rick warned.

“Fall Festival?”

“Damn,” Rick said. “You really don’t like surprises, do you?”

“Guess I’m just too good,” Daryl said smugly. “Anyway, I’ve never been, so it’ll still be cool.”

Every year around this time, Cynthiana had a Fall Festival that went on every weekend for about a month. It was basically just a little carnival set up in the unused parking lot of a long shutdown factory that had once manufactured milk or something really random like that. When Rick was in middle school, kids used to tell stories that the factory was haunted even though there was absolutely no lore to warrant this, and would dare each other to spend the night inside. Rick and Shane had almost gotten away with spending the night when they were in seventh grade, both lying to the others’ parents that they were staying at the others’ house, but then their moms had ran into each other at the grocery store and had put two and two together, and they had gotten dragged home and grounded not even an hour into setting up their sleeping bags, and had been the laughingstock of the school for the rest of the year. 

The carnival itself was your basic run-of-the-mill carnival--face painting, lots of game booths set up designed to steal your money, a few rides. Last year there had even been a Funhouse set up, though Rick was sort of ashamed to admit that when he, Glenn, and Shane had all gone together, he had gotten separated from them and had wound up lost inside for a good twenty minutes.

They pulled into the parking lot, and with the sky threatening to open up and pour rain any minute now, there wasn’t even a line to buy tickets. Rick paid, and Daryl, in typical fashion, started to protest, but Rick grabbed the tickets from the woman selling them before Daryl had time to take out his own money. 

“You can buy next time,” Rick said as they walked into the midst of the carnival. He studied Daryl, trying to gauge his reaction to “next time,” but the other boy was too distracted by everything going on around them.

He stared wide-eyed at the booths of cotton candy and caramel apples, the children painted to look like lions and butterflies running from exasperated parents, the guy walking around on stilts who was trying his very best not to trip over said children. Rick couldn’t help but laugh. While he did have his good memories spent here each fall, the entire carnival was honestly a little kitschy, everything all crowded into one tiny parking lot, half the game booths chipping and rundown--he could only hope that the rides were better kept up with--everyone pushing and crowding into the event because, to the citizens of Cynthiana, most of whom never so much as left the town for college, this was their own personal Disney World. But looking at the carnival through Daryl’s eyes, the entire thing was suddenly transformed. Rick could tell Daryl had never seen anything like it.

“I can’t believe you’ve never gone to one of these things,” Rick said. “It’s usually more crowded, but looks like the bad weather is working out in our favor. Which I totally planned for, of course.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Daryl replied, with not a hint of belief.

Suddenly a clown lurched at them, proffering a fistfull of brightly colored balloons. He was a short man with his hair spiked and hair-sprayed neon green, face all smeared with white, red stars over his eyes, a red foam nose, and an alarmingly blood red frown drawn around his lips. The sight was disturbing, to say the least.

“Balloon?” he asked. 

“No thank you,” Rick said quickly.

The clown shrugged and walked away towards a group of kids. Daryl stared at Rick, eyebrows raised, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly in amusement.

“Clowns aren’t my favorite, okay?” he said defensively. “You can’t tell me you think that some guy deciding to dress up like that for a livin’ is normal.”

“Arguably not normal,” Daryl agreed, “but definitely not scary.”

“Are you tellin’ me you have zero phobias? And I’m talking the dumb stuff, not something like dyin’ or terrorism or something that everyone’s scared of.”

“Nope. None at all,” Daryl said, brushing past him. He pointed to a booth where water guns shaped like hunting rifles were set up, a counter between the guns and a wall where two bullseyes hung. Above the bullseyes, an array of giant stuffed animals were strung in a somewhat macabre noose-like fashion. “Wanna get your ass kicked?”

“What?” Rick said, incredulous. “So, you’ve never played a carnival game before, right? Never, ever?” When Daryl nodded, Rick grinned. “All right, it’s your funeral. What are we bettin’, then?”

“Hmm.” Daryl stroked his chin thoughtfully, looking around. His eyes landed on the clown, who had already managed to get rid of all his balloons and was now currently tying some without helium in them into balloon animals. “When I win, you have to get your face painted like that clown.”

“Fine,” Rick reluctantly agreed. “But when I win, you’re gettin’ into that thing.” He pointed over to where the dunk tank was set up. 

“It’s a deal,” Daryl said, and he didn’t look the least bit worried as he led the way over to the water guns.

The guy running the booth charged them three dollars each--this time Rick was too slow, and Daryl managed to pay for them--before explaining that only if they managed to hit the bullseyes dead center for five seconds or longer, causing the light bulb that hung beneath them to light up, would they win a stuffed animal. Figuring neither of them would probably succeed--after all, there didn’t seem to be anyone walking around the carnival having won one of the prizes--Rick and Daryl agreed that they’d be honest and whoever managed to get closer to the bullseye would win their bet. 

They positioned themselves at either water rifle, but Daryl didn’t lift his, instead watching Rick curiously as he carefully lined up the shot.

“Watch and learn,” Rick said, pulling the trigger. A stream of water sprayed out of the nozzle, barely hitting the fourth ring of the bullseye. 

“Thanks for showin’ me what not to do,” Daryl snickered.

“Oh, come on! Everyone knows these things are rigged,” Rick groaned.

“I’m legally required to tell you that they aren’t,” the guy behind the counter said. “Plus, you can’t really rig someone into having bad aim.”

“Gee, thanks,” Rick grumbled.

Daryl picked up his gun, taking an exuberantly long time to aim. By the time he pulled the trigger, a small crowd of curious onlookers was beginning to form. The water shot out directly into the middle of the bullseye, and before Rick knew it, the light bulb under it started flickering on and off. The crowd went wild, cheering and patting Daryl on the back. He appeared slightly conflicted over the attention, both discomfort and pride alike fighting their way onto his face. Rick recognized some of the people gathered as students at their school, and had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything he might regret. These were kids who normally couldn’t be bothered to say hello to Daryl, now acting like they were best friends.

The guy behind the counter regarded Daryl in awe. “I honestly have never given a single one of these things out,” he said, referring to the stuffed animals. “So, which one is it going to be?”

Daryl pointed up at a giant bear, almost half the size of him, that was missing an eye, a small fluff of stuffing sticking out of the empty socket. “No one else would’ve picked it,” Daryl said to Rick’s confused expression.

They moved away from the booth, Daryl with his bear, and the first thing Daryl did was hand the thing to a little girl who was crying over the ice cream cone she had dropped. “I couldn’t have shown back home with that thing, anyway,” he said.

“But, Daryl, haven’t you ever seen a single chick flick? You could’ve given it to me,” Rick said, placing his hand over his heart dramatically.

“Do you watch a lot of chick flicks?” Daryl challenged.

“It’s just me and my mom. What do you think?” Rick laughed. “I’m only joking, though. That was nice.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’, tryin’ to distract me.” Daryl pointed to the face painter, who sat on a stool beside a table covered in a wide array of paints. “I won, fair and square.”

Ten minutes later, Rick had been transformed into a sad clown. He honestly felt a small spike of panic when the woman lifted the hand mirror she had to show him how he looked. 

“Lovely,” he said, forking over the five dollars he owed her. At least he wouldn’t have to go around seeing himself all day.

“This is a good look for you,” Daryl teased.

“Don’t tell me clowns are what does it for you,” Rick was quick to shoot back.

Daryl blushed furiously, for a moment too flustered to speak. But, as if they were playing some sort of game he refused to lose, he replied, “I dunno. Not nearly as hot as the real clown.”

To which it was safe to say Daryl won that round.

They burned half an hour getting cotton candy and hot dogs, and then riding the tilt-a-whirl, the order of which was not exactly wisely thought out. Both of them looked a little green by the time they got off, and ended up merely walking around for a bit, just talking. Nothing too deep, but it was nice. Daryl told Rick about how hunting was his favorite past time.

“Just being out in the woods in general,” he said. “I like being surrounded by trees, just gettin’ to disappear into nature. It’s like, out there no one’s thinking about me. I don’t have to be anything.”

“I don’t know if I have a favorite place,” Rick admitted. “I don’t really feel comfortable anywhere in this town. Sometimes I feel like I’m goin’ crazy here, if I’m being honest. I look at the people here--like the adults, the old people--who have been here since they were born, just walkin’ around perfectly content with this tiny bit of nothing being their whole world. And it’s not like I’m any better than them; I’ve never been anywhere else, either, but I just can’t imagine growin’ up that blind and being perfectly damned content with it.”

“Some folks find comfort in the familiar, I guess,” Daryl said.

Rick looked up to see that they had unintentionally ended up in front of the ferris wheel, easily the Fall Festival’s most impressive attraction. The line to it was the longest, the giant spokes of metal stretching up far into the darkening sky. The ferris wheel’s operator kept glancing upwards periodically.

“First sign of lightning, and we’re shutting this thing down, everyone,” he announced to a chorus of boos.

“Wanna try our luck?” Rick asked. “I’m pretty sure my stomach’s still too in knots to go on any of the crazier rides.”

“That guy pretty much just told us we’re gonna be struck by lightning,” Daryl pointed out.

“Let’s consider it an added element of excitement.” Rick gently grabbed Daryl by the shoulders, all too aware how new this physical touching part of their relationship was, and guided him to the back of the line.

The line moved relatively quickly due to the large number of passengers the ferris wheel could hold at a time, and in only a few minutes, Rick and Daryl found themselves seated beside each other in one of the pods. Daryl was like a bobble head, neck swiveling back and forth as he peered around anxiously. At first, Rick thought he was just as amazed by the ferris wheel, assumedly having never been on one, as he had been by the rest of the carnival, but when the ride began to move, sending their pod climbing higher and higher, it hit him.

“Holy shit. This? _This_ is what you’re afraid of? You rode the tilt-a-whirl, no problem! That thing literally throws you sideways into the air back and forth.”

“Fuck off,” Daryl said, knuckles bone white as clutched the guardrail tightly. “And also, the tilt-a-whirl doesn’t go nearly as high, and doesn’t leave you dangling hundreds of feet off the ground, waiting for your seat to break apart with you in it.”

“We’re like twenty feet off the ground, tops.”

“I welcome you to unbuckle, then.” Daryl shut his eyes tightly, breathing carefully in though his nose and out through his mouth.

Their pod had reached the very topmost point of the ferris wheel, and between the gathered clouds, Rick could just barely make out the tiniest space of blue sky. “Daryl, you should open your eyes,” he said. “This is the best part.”

And that was when the ferris wheel shuddered to a halt. Daryl’s eyes flew open, and he grabbed Rick’s arm tightly, fingernails digging in. Rick looked down to see smoke billowing out from the ferris wheel’s control box. The operator stood beside it, barking orders at some of the other carnival workers. He pointed at the guy on stilts, who literally jogged off, perhaps to get someone who could better resolve the situation, which was quite possibly the funniest thing Rick had seen all day.

Daryl, however, did not seem to find the situation nearly as hilarious. “I swear to fuckin’ God, if I don’t get off this thing in the next five seconds…”

“I’m sure it’s nothin’,” Rick said. “Just some kind of short in the wiring, maybe? They’ll get us moving in no time.”

“‘Short in the wiring’,” Daryl mimicked. “Reassuring.”

The sky took that moment to finally split apart, one fat raindrop at a time, until suddenly it was pouring. The wind had began to pick up, a warm, lazy one, and between that and the rain, the humidity felt like it was rising by the second, making the air around them feel like tepid bathwater. Their pod had somewhat of a domed roof, but due to the angle its curve, this only meant the rainwater had a direct path right into their laps. 

“At least we brought these,” Rick said, opening his umbrella, which was immediately caught up in the wind and ripped inside out, metal spokes snapping. 

“Awesome. This is awesome,” Daryl said, eyeing the ground below uneasily. “Rick, I think I’m gonna be sick, I’m not kiddin’.”

“You need to stop lookin’ down.” Uncertainly, Rick slowly reached out a hand to grab Daryl’s, squeezing it slightly. “We’re going to be fine, I promise. Just...just look at me, okay?”

Daryl did, and Rick watched as the panic left his eyes all at once.

They had their second kiss on the top of a ferris wheel, in the pouring rain, both soaking wet. No one could see them past the curvature of their pod’s walls, and one of them understood then, what the other had meant, about being somewhere where you didn’t feel like you had to be anything at all. One of them tasted like cigarettes, but the other didn’t mind; sort of liked it, really. One of them was covered in paint that was slowly dripping its way off of his face, but the other didn't seem to mind the way it was getting all over him. If their first kiss had been uncertain, this one was anything but. It was desperate and uncontrolled, and neither could tell where the other ended between the rain and the heat, and neither particularly cared. 

It was only when the ferris wheel finally began to move again that they broke apart, and the one of them who had been terrified only moments before was grinning like he could’ve stayed up there all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...I don't know...that ended...somewhat...very nicely...didn't it?? In fact, it seems the last couple chapters have had rather happy endings haven't they? That couldn't possibly be building up to anything, could it? (Okay, I'm sorry, I'll stop. But also I feel so evil right now.)
> 
> ALSO CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT THE WALKING DEAD FOR A SECOND. I read all my old chapter notes and in one of the last chapters I wrote, I was talking about how Carl had become one of my favorite characters...I know I'm late on the Carl fan train; it seems like everyone but me loved him from the beginning, but seriously he had become my 2nd favorite living character, after Maggie...and all I have to say is like wtf is this show doing anymore. It'll always have a special place in my heart, and I'll finish it just because I've made it this far, but I'm starting to get super pissed off. I feel like there aren't even main characters anymore :/ and why the hell is there so much focus on Eugene's storyline? I don't care about him whatsoever, I used to defend him but he wound up to be a massive prick, just saying.  
> PS if there are any continuity errors, pls let me know. Bc it's been so long I might've written something that didn't make sense, like I had almost forgotten that Rick had already told his mom he and Lori broke up in the previous chapter and literally sat and wrote an entire scene again where he told her, so yeah. Hopefully i caught them all, though.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy the story so far! If anyone has any suggestions on things they'd like to see happen next, feel free to let me know.


End file.
